The Angel's Share
by Rebecca Anders
Summary: Hell is a distillery. It takes the soul, macerates it, then leaves what remains to mature. But what happens when the angels come to take their share and find something worth savoring? This story follows Dean as he discovers Castiel for the first time and learns just what it means to be restored.
1. Chapter 1

**Set in the Supernatural universe this story diverts from the canon. The divergence here is that Castiel has not appeared to Dean after Hell, in fact Dean has yet to learn of angels at all.**

**I've decided I want some brooding and sweeping visuals told in present tense, and Cas & Dean lend themselves beautifully to the writing style. Thanks for all the support for my first fiction, A Dichotomy of Feathers, I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Let me know what you think!**

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**an·gel's share** (ān′jəlz)  
_n._ _Informal_

The quantity of an alcoholic liquor lost to evaporation during the distilling process.

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Another day. Another bar. Another group of women scrambling for a 'bad boy'. Dean is getting sick of it. He gives a silent sigh and twists his beer bottle around absently.

Not that he minds all of the attention, it makes staying distracted incredibly easy. Maybe too easy sometimes. A wink goes a long way and his reputation practically oozes off him. Plus with their job and lives distractions are necessary on a nearly daily basis. Even Sammy has to cave sometimes to spending a night forgetting, though he tends to have trouble severing those ties. That part is easy for Dean.

Sam likes to remind him that they should have normal lives, should marry and settle down. And as much as he outwardly agrees with his brother, he doesn't believe in that for himself. His father had had that life. A wife, two kids, a house, a normal job. What had that gotten him and his sons? A life of heartache and deep psychological scars. He is firmly a believer in 12 hour love now. But no need to ruin the dream for Sam, poor kid needs all the positive he can get and seems content to fool himself, so he'll keep shut on the topic. He can just ignore the loneliness as he always does, with plenty of drink and company.

Ow. Speaking of that brother, he's nudging Dean hard in the ribs from where they stand at the bar. Sam catches his eye over his bottle then nods to the two women across the bar. The unspoken question in his eyes tells Dean that this is one of those times Sam needs help forgetting.

"You go ahead man, I'm beat. Probly gonna head back after this one."

Sam snorts, "The hell's wrong with you? You've been acting weird again since that salt and burn yesterday."

O yes, that was a fun job. And not fun in the happy way. Raised way too many fucking questions that Sam of course kept asking for hours. It was an easy enough job, a woman who had spent her life alone and isolated, then haunted the farm house she'd lived in by herself for 50 years. It's one of the fears Dean has developed since Hell. Losing Sam to a woman or the job, then finding himself alone. He'd certainly be the hunter version of a crazy cat lady. Insane gun guy? Doesn't have the same ring.

"Yea well, wore me out, plus that last place had horrible beds. Hardly slept for those 4 hours we got," he says, draining the rest of his beer. It's part of the truth at least, the part that he's willing to share. "But you go ahead, I'll meet you at the motel tomorrow. Don't have anything to head off to yet."

Sam is only half paying attention, making eyes at the small brunette of the two girls. "Yea yea, I'll be there tomorrow if not tonight," she starts walking over, hips swaying just marginally more than really necessary, "Definitely not tonight."

Dean gives a small huff of a chuckle, his brother certainly got the cute approachable genes, makes picking up girls easy and enjoyable. Most are too intimidated to come up to Dean on their own, only the over confident and loud girls ever do. But the quiet ones are the best. Full of hidden agendas and secret kinks they're either really good at or really interesting in trying. Sam always gets the quiet ones with his ridiculous floppy hair and awkward lankiness. "You have fun bro, try and stay safe."

Sam wasn't pretending to pay attention anymore, and just waved a hand of acknowledgment in his general direction.

Dean plops down some bills and nods thanks to the bar tender then heads out alone to his baby.

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Of all the things Dean is a hypocrite about it's researching that he tries to pretend hatred for the most. Or maybe just second most...actually no third, but regardless it has to be one of the top things.

Truth is he loves doing it, but smarts are supposed to be Sam's thing, and the poor kid has always jumped at the chance to use his brain. He even caved to letting Sam splurge on some noise canceling headphones so he could blast his tunes in the car while Sam read. He'd been letting him do it since he got back from his attempt at college and normal life. Seemed to keep him complacent. If only slightly.

With Sam off for the night he takes a leisurely shower, scrubbing with the cheap motel soap until he feels squeaky. Even takes the extra time to actually use the conditioner. Which for him, is on the same level as a spa day. Which it's not. Spas are for women.

Feeling clean and loose from the hot water he dries of quickly, slips on some boxers and plops down on the little twin bed with the computer. He spends a little bit sifting through news sites. There are a few stories that sound like their kind of thing. Cleaning service out in Minnesota has tried to go viral with their search for missing workers. Looks like their maids are disappearing from their cars along busy roads. Maids would be a good gig, maybe they'd even have those sexy uniforms. He pulls over a notebook and writes down some of the info.

Possible werewolf in Florida, nothing new there, state's crawling with weird. Some bizarre fires out in Idaho, too far. Haunting in Massachusetts, now that's interesting. He writes down some more notes. Best to call Bobby in the morning and see if he has something near them or if he already has someone on it.

He closes the laptop, it's not really holding his interest tonight, and glances at the clock. Only 11 pm, not yet time for bed. He's bone weary for sure, but there is no quieting his mind. He feels revved up and distracted. But there's another emotion under that he can't figure out. Boredom? Anxiety? There's literally no reason for him to be anything but content right now, so what the hell.

He flips on the TV absently, and finds a car show on, but it would only last til midnight. Maybe he'll call Bobby once it's over, old man never sleeps anyways.

By the time midnight rolls around Dean is fast asleep. TV still playing quietly and casting him in shifting lights. His dreams are restless, dragging up thoughts of loneliness and despair. Feelings he swears he hasn't felt since Hell. Dean Winchester _literally_ escaped Hell, nothing in the world could make him feel that way again and he outright refuses to.

But, one dream in particular plays out vividly in his mind. One of those rare lucid dreams he hears people talk about, where he is aware and making choices.

_He's standing in a field of knee height yellow wild flowers, they have a sugary scent with a hint of spice to it. Cinnamon? The sky is impossibly turquoise blue, cloudless, and stretching on for miles upon miles. A breeze starts up, rippling the flowers like an ocean and blowing against him with warmth. He turns in a circle, taking in the surroundings, and spots a hill out in the distance. The breeze kicks up and pushes against him, urging him toward the hill. _

_The moment he tries to take a step it's like he is whisked forward, taking only a few seconds to get there. It is a dream after all._

_Once he reaches the top he finds a small girl with wavy golden hair sitting and making chains from the flowers. She ignores his presence, focusing on her task.  
_

_"Where's Sammy?," he asks her. Why would he ask that? Who is she, that's what he should be asking.  
_

_"Gone."_

_Well alright then. "What about Bobby? Or maybe dad?" Screw dad, he might not deserve Hell but he certainly can stay the fuck out of his dreams.  
_

_"Gone too."_

_Just great. He sits down next to her, noticing the blanket she's on for the first time. She pauses as he stretches out his legs. With a deep sigh, he looks around at the fields again. "Well at least I've got you. What's your name anyways?" He turns to look at her but there's just the little flower circlet. She's gone. Gone like the rest of them apparently, and now Dean is sitting in a field of flowers with a small crown placed beside him for company. Completely and utterly alone.  
_

Just as he is when he wakes on the twin bed in their ratty motel room, drenched in sweat and trembling.

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The drive the next morning is beautiful. The boys have good tunes, some road snacks, and plenty of good weather. Spring is just turning into summer, the leaves fully opened and the crisp freshness starting to wear off. Still hasn't gotten hot enough to turn on the spotty A/C, so in Dean's book this weather is perfect. It's enough to keep his restless mind off that empty feeling he's had since that dream last night.

He has Sam call Bobby once they got out of town. Fortunately he's shut up about 'Jane' by now. If Dean has to hear another minute of his brother gushing like a middle school girl about how fantastic and smart and funny she was he might actually hurl. A key difference between them, lays are a means to an end for Dean but for Sam it's a 'vital human connection' or some shit. Damn kid went hippie in California.

"Yea no it was an easy one Bobby, didn't take as long as we thought. New owners were good about letting us do our thing."

Silence while Bobby talks, broken with a few 'yea's and 'ok's from Sam. Dean rolls his window back up as they hit the highway going east. It sticks a little, might need some work to make sure it goes smooth. Added to the ever growing list of repairs he'll make next time they hit Sioux Falls.

"Oh ok, didn't realize he was out that way, I guess we'll take the other. Not too far from us anyways. Thanks for your help, we'll let you know if anything seems weird," Sam says, getting out the map with the phone held between his jaw and shoulder, "Will do. Thanks Bobby."

"So which one are we taking, the disappearances of hopefully French maids or the haunted church?" Dean asks once Sam puts the phone down.

"Church. Looks like Rufus is training Jeff's kid with the other."

"He old enough for that now? Damn, felt like last year he was in kindergarten. So which way to Quincy, Massachusetts?"

"Not sure yet but it's north of here so...guess start heading that way? Towards Boston, kinda." Sam says, burying his head in the map with his brows drawn together in concentration.

"Will do. Guess we should play some Boston if we're going to Boston," Dean smiles and pulls out the right cassette. The unamused bitch face he gets is well worth the horrible attempt at humor. But the music is good and he even gets Sam to half heartedly sing along after a few tracks.

About an hour out from Quincy Sam starts in on the job research. An old church in the area has been having some bizarre stories surrounding it recently, choir members seeing benches move, a few apparitions, and the priest swore to the journalists that he'd heard the organ playing, though it had been damaged for years. Nothing terribly concerning or violent, but seems worth looking into. Things had been slow for a while, they could take the time to look into some easy cases and relax. It does a man good after Hel- nope, not even going there. Dean's in too good of a mood to spoil it with those thoughts.

"I'll look into any weird deaths there but churches are difficult," Sam grumbles, pulling out a notebook to begin working it out.

"Yea I know, too many funerals and dead people around. Maybe we should just seance the whole place."

Sam gives a blank stare at the side smile Dean has, which vanishes quickly, "Dude I'm not serious, lighten up!"

A soft sigh is all he gets from the passengers seat and Sam goes back to his research. If he's going to be a little bitch like that then Dean deserves some tunes, so with a flick of his fingers the volume's up and he's belting out verses.

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After getting a room at the first motel in the phone book they pull up to one of the diners in town. Hunting requires hunters food, only grease and coffee will do for that, though Sam likes to have rabbit food with his. Dean still hates the sight of it, isn't trustworthy.

While he's deciding on what to order, Sam uses his FBI badge and boyish charms to get the WiFi password from the waitress. Dean is pretty sure Sam would actually cry if he had to go more than 24 hours without the internet. The petite blonde waitress is more than willing to oblige him with the password as well as her number.

Halfway through the meal Sam has compiled all of the notes he can get on the case. The church is old, built around 1834, and has been quiet over the years. There was a murder on site back in the 60s, but no hauntings have happened until the past year.

"We should probably ask the priest about what he heard," Sam says, "And wouldn't hurt to talk to the rest of the congregation."

"Sounds good. You handle the priest, I've never been good at acting Godly. It'd be even worse now that I've literally played at being the devil."

"But wouldn't your time have made you more of a believer?"

"Ugh don't start on that again. Doing time in Hell doesn't make me a God squader. Just made me more pissed at how shitty the whole system is," he grumbles. Seriously, Sam and his 'aren't you having a life crisis all the time' bullshit. He's dealing, and dealing pretty damn well he might add. Hell of a lot better than he'd dealt with dad dying, so Sam needs to stop being a girl before he belts him in the backseat with a gag. Dean stands, knocking back the rest of his coffee. "You ready?"

"Yea, right behind you."

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Dean had forgotten how much he hates cases that deal with churches. It isn't the building itself or even the ideals and beliefs that really piss him off. It's the hypocrisy of the whole thing. Priests always have skeletons in their closets, usually ones far more gruesome and morally disturbing than your average person. And the older church members...well, let's just say that the men and women alike all scramble for a piece of handsome firm young ass like his and Sam's.

This one has been no exception. Of the five choir members he's spoken to about the things they'd been experiencing he's received five phone numbers. One lady, if she can even be called that, went so far as to run a hand up his thigh while they were talking. He'd stood up as abruptly as he could before she got too high, knocking the coffee she'd given him onto the floor. He didn't feel too bad about the soiled carpet.

His only saving grace is that Sam got the same treatment, so they can complain together.

"God it was just so gross. Fucking priests are always trying to get a damn twink. Barely even got any information," Sam whines, flopping down across his bed. The beds are barely big enough to fit Dean, so Sam's extra height is making it look like it belongs in a doll house.

"What'd he offer this time? Money or salvation?"

"Neither! He just outright said he'd be at his office late if I wanted to stop by and 'chat'. Stared right at my crotch the whole time he said it. Licked his lips and everything. Ugh I want a shower." He gets up and slams around into the bathroom.

Dean can't help but laugh. As much as he doesn't like a creepy old man trying to molest his little brother, the kid can easily take care of himself. Poor priest wouldn't even have a chance against Sam with a weapon. Plus Sam isn't a kid anymore, he is more than capable of dealing with things himself, but old protective habits die hard. "Well at least you can say he has good taste!"

Sam groans from the other room over the sound of the shower, "You're so gross! Let's just drop it."

Dean flips on the TV and waits for Sam to shower off. Nothing on worth watching but he changes between channels to keep entertained. Sam comes out dripping water on the dirty carpet with his jeans slung low on his hips. Dean turns the TV off and asks, "What'd he tell you about the case, anything?"

Sam towels off his hair, tossing it about. Looks like a girl when he does that. "Said he'd been hearing organ music off and on. They have an old pipe organ that hasn't worked in decades. More for show than anything. But I guess it's been several times that he's been working in his office and hears organ music. Goes out to look and it stops."

Sam drops down into the chair across from Dean. He doesn't look too concerned about the entire thing. "The choir tell you anything besides their phone numbers?"

"Yea I got some out of a few. Lots of random breezes, weird feedback in the speakers when they aren't plugged in, and one saw an apparition."

Sam's eyebrows raise, "Like a full apparition or just some haze?"

"Full. Guy said it was sitting at the organ while they sang then when he went to investigate it disappeared and reappeared up in the rafters."

"Huh," Sam says, looking puzzled, "Has it said anything or done anything to anyone?"

"Nope, just sat around and made music I guess."

Sam gives his little barely there laugh he does when something amuses him, "Then are you sure this is even our thing? I mean, why are we investigating this?" Sam moves over to lay back on his bed, yawning.

"I don't know man, just caught my eye is all. Worth checking out though, things have been pretty quiet. Do you have something else to do?"

"No no, just not sure why you had us drive all this way for some damn music ghost," Sam ducks at the shoe Dean throws at him, then chuckles and turns off his light for bed. He's been far too bitchy for Dean's comfort lately, always whining about something or another and needing way too much distracting.

Dean sits up a while longer checking local reports and brooding. Maybe this really wasn't their sort of thing, wasn't even sure why he thought this was a case. Maybe Sam _is_ right for once and not just being bratty. But they're here, might as well look into it.

When he falls asleep a few hours later he dreams again, everything is just as real as the last one.

_This time he's running through the field of yellow flowers, not getting pushed by wind. His feet are sinking slightly into the soft soil with each step. There is a tree in the distance on that hill he saw last time. He runs for hours, never feeling out of breath or energy, yet no matter how much ground he covers it never gets closer. _

_Organ music plays in his head all the while._

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**And thus begins our story! I have this entire thing mapped out and am tremendously excited to write it for you all, let me know how this first bit went, all feedback is appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Shorter chapter - I may end up tacking this onto the first chapter, but wanted to get out an update soon so that this story can get going.  
_

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Dean shot up in bed, lashing out with the knife he kept in his hand at night. That dream hadn't been a nightmare, so what the hell was he doing getting freaked out. He let out the breath he was holding and let his arm drop, the knife thudding into the comforter. His heart felt like it was trying to run out of his chest while the rest of his insides were slowly sliding down into the floor. The fuck was wrong with him?

He laid back down, a headache beginning to blossom behind his eyes. He glances over to check that Sam was still asleep, and thankfully the overgrown kid is snoring away. With hands that are absolutely _not_ trembling he fumbles the knife back up to rest under his pillow.

Nightmares are nothing new to him, Hell left it's mark permanently seared into his retinas, but that dream hadn't even been creepy let alone frightening. And of course this just _had_ to happen on a night he could get plenty of sleep. Never when he could afford to be wide awake all night.

As he becomes more aware he notices the state he's in beyond his thoughts. God there's nothing more disgusting than waking up in a puddle of your own sweat. With a soft sigh he gets up and shuffles into the bathroom, pulling his sweat soaked undershirt off along the way. It joins the rest of his things piled onto his duffel bag. Keeping the lights off so he won't wake Sam, he grabs a washcloth, runs cold water over it and begins wiping down his chest, neck, and face.

As he dries off with one of the scratchy nonabsorbent motel towels he feels the first traces of adrenaline that signal a panic attack. Nope not tonight, not dealing with anxiety this time. He'd put that behind him a while ago, now it was just cold hard focus. Sammy needs him to be stable.

It took less than a second to decide on the solution, and another 15 to dart back towards his duffel. He pulls out his favorite talisman against shit like this, a small bottle of Jack Daniels, and takes a few swigs. Wow that sting and bite is good at distracting. Hard to start thinking irrational thoughts when his eyes were watering from fighting the urge to cough. And a good thing Sam's out, won't have to deal with his bitch face or another lecture on alcoholism. He takes another mouthful before stashing the bottle away, the burn settling into a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

Just gotta keep thinking about something neutral til the whiskey does its magic and lulls him back to sleep. Baby, yea, that's a good topic. Dean starts mentally going over the list of repairs she needs while crawling back in the bed, indulging himself in the urge to curl up like he did when he was younger.

Tucking his knees up to his chest, hand wrapping around the end of the knife, mind thinking about brake pads, and belly full of warmth Dean drifts off back to sleep. Peaceful this time, not full of emotions he refuses to feel.

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They decide to check out the church for themselves the next morning. The congregation is fairly small, so the building is empty when they arrive, and thankfully the priest is out on visits. Dean's not sure how he'd handle watching the creepy ass man hit on Sam.

A full EMF sweep reveals nothing, but just to be sure Dean insists on a second pass. He has an odd feeling about the place, can't put his finger on what it is, but it just doesn't set well with him. Ignoring Sam's constant grumbles he starts over from the beginning.

They are just clearing through the side of the main chapel when Sam's patience finally wears thin. "Dean there is _nothing _here! I'm going back out to the car, if you want to keep wandering around be my guest." He huffs away, muttering to himself.

"Oh come on Sammy don't be such a little bitch!" Sam just keeps walking, shaking his head.

Dean watches him go, slightly annoyed, but keeps doing his sweep, muttering under his breath. He continues to register nothing though, just silence from the reader, so a haunting is definitely ruled out. But what else could possibly have these signs and not be a ghost? Maybe there's something back in dad's journal, and he'll have Sam call Bobby and discuss it with him. At least it'll keep the kid busy and off Dean's back for a while.

As he moves through the main worship chapel towards the exit he feels a chill run up his spine. He scrambles to grab the EMF reader and begins waving it about the area, hoping to finally catch the spirit. But again, there's nothing. Not even a small blip.

Yep he's officially lost it. Took long enough but looks like his mind is cracking, great. It was too much to hope that he'd come out of Hell with his mind unscathed. At least it's manageable and he's not manic. Just convinced that there are signs where there is nothing. Totally healthy. By now it's nearly dinner time, so he figures he might as well join Sam at the car.

When he steps out of the front door into the fading sunlight he swears he hears a soft sound from behind, almost as though someone was whispering. He turns to look, but again, nothing there. Just as the door clicks shut his heart drops with no warning or cause, that horrible sinking feeling he can't place but has been feeling. But with the earlier confusion, he knows he must just be imagining it. One more thing to add to the growing list of 'let's not tell Sam about this and keep pushing forward'.

Sam waves over at him from where he's leaning against the Impala, an annoyed edge to the way he pulls open the passenger door. "Took you long enough, now come on I'm getting hungry."

"Don't get your panties all in a bunch, I'm coming" he yells over, that terrible feeling slowly leaving, only to be replaced by the usual emptiness.

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Dean finds himself alone once again in a seedy motel.

They had grabbed some dinner at a bar in town, discussing the case. Or at least Dean had discussed it. Sam had half listened, focusing more on surveying the other patrons. Dean had left him there, talking up a pretty little redhead with a dumb smile on his face.

He certainly doesn't feel bad about having left Sam, he knows that letting him have his nights of distraction made him well rested and ready to go the next day, and he needs him on board for this. Because Dean is very sure that there is something going on at that church.

Plus, the headache he's been nursing all day has steadily gotten worse, and he could use some quiet time. With just the little bed light on he lays back against some propped up pillows to browse through John's journal for ideas, bottle of whiskey next to his hip. He scans through pages, rereading some of the notes here and there between sips. He's just made it to a page about some Greek god or another when he admits defeat to the haze building in his mind. The alcohol has done it's job and numbed out the headache with the added benefit of numbing that weird emptiness he's been feeling. He snaps the book closed and throws it on the nightstand, immediately followed by the bottle.

Getting up unsteadily he saunters to the bathroom, humming along the way, and turns on the shower. While he waits for it to warm up he goes back and takes another long pull of whiskey. Better safe than sorry when it comes to keeping that headache at bay.

Drunken showers are one of his favorite things, especially without a bratty little brother complaining about how long he takes or how loud he sings while foaming up shampoo. The water is the perfect temperature, and for once there's enough room for him to fit in the stall. Even the water pressure isn't too bad. Maybe he'll take the time and shave while he's at it, no need to hurry and get out for Sammy. He pulls back the curtain in what he thinks is a dramatic move in time with the song he's belting out, but in reality nearly loses his balance. Water drips onto the floor as he reaches for his bathroom kit, fumbling through the little bag for his razor.

A few minutes and only two shaving cuts later he's finished, walking into the other room naked and feeling brazen for it. He's Dean fucking Winchester and he _enjoys_ his alone time, damn it. Alone isn't bad at all, he's not sure why he makes all the fuss over it. Another mouthful of whiskey and he's sure he was overreacting with this case earlier, Sam is right, there's nothing here for them.

Speaking of Sam, he left his laptop behind. A dark smirk spreads across Dean's face as he goes over to sit at the little table and pull up one of his favorite porn sites. There is no way that he'll let this fantastic evening go by without having some good private time to himself, he can even be naked, which makes it that much better.

Hmm what's he feeling in the mood for tonight? A little light bondage? No, maybe something more vanilla, something he can just enjoy. Subject decided he opens up a few videos til finding one that really suits his fancy. He spends a good half hour pleasuring himself, slow building and even pressing against that stretch of skin behind his balls right at the end. It's stupid but he always saves that for times when he has lots of private time. Makes it seem special or something, which yea is kinda stupid.

Boneless and satisfied he quickly cleans up before burrowing into his bed, flicking the light off after a few attempts to locate the switch. The whiskey is still swimming nicely in his head, making that blissed out and sleepy feeling that much more powerful. It only takes a few minutes for him to slide off into sleep.

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_It's dusk in the old church, the light filtering in from the stained glass is warming the wooden pew where he sits and drenches him in mottled colors. He feels good sitting there, better than he has since getting topside. That bizarre emptiness is gone, his heart beating comfortably inside a chest that doesn't feel hollow for once. He watches the dust float down through the light for a bit.  
_

_You know, for a church this place is pretty nice. It's quiet, there's no one here, but he doesn't feel that ache like he does when he's alone in the real world. He's aware that this is just a dream, decides to enjoy it anyways.  
_

_Maybe once he wakes up he'll come back here, see if this feeling is something he can have while awake. Sam will complain about going back, but he'll just pull the big brother card and make him join.  
_

_The door to the church opens back behind him, loud in the silence. He wants to turn around, but is frozen in place.  
_

_"Sam?"  
_

_Footsteps start down the aisle, leisurely stride and in no hurry. There's a long way to go from the back of the church where the front door is. His seat is only a few rows from the pulpit. Damn it why can't he move?  
_

_"Uhm, pastor?" No response, the footsteps are closer now. "Who's there?"  
_

_Still no response. The footsteps have stopped just behind him. Dean strains his eyes to the side, hoping to get a glimpse of who is looming behind him but there's still no budging from his position.  
_

_There's a change in air pressure that tells him the newcomer is leaning forward over his shoulder, the edge of a sleeve just barely visible in his peripheral vision.  
_

_Then with a swift movement blue eyes come into his line of sight.  
_

He snaps awake and flails about gracelessly before seeing Sam next to the other bed, who has just dropped into a crouch, hands raised.

"Woah, Dean! Calm down it's me, sorry didn't mean to wake you!" He keeps his hands up, gesturing with them slightly for Dean to calm down.

"The hell're you doin'?" Dean says, words slurring with sleep and drink. He glances at the clock, only an hour since he got in bed, whiskey is definitely still kicking.

"I tripped over the end of the bed, sorry, was trying to be quiet. Just go back to sleep."

He settles back down into the covers, heart slowing into a nice steady pace. Sam grabbed the laptop from the table then got in his bed. Not half a minute later he gave an annoyed groan, drawing Dean's attention from where he was dozing back off. "Seriously dude? Could you not have closed out of the window? I don't need to see what you were up to tonight." His tone was far too disapproving for Dean's taste.

"Didn't realize you were such a prude. Jus' close it and lemme sleep dammit," he snapped, turning over to put his back to the laptop light.

He made a point to ignore the empty feeling that had come back into him upon waking and drifted back asleep, sluggishly thinking that he might need to check the church out again after all.

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_Wow, much excite, very angst.  
_

_Can you guys guess where Cas is yet or do you need more foreshadowing? :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Here's another chapter for you, not much longer before our favorite angel makes his appearance! I put this off all week but made myself sit down tonight with a glass of wine (or two) and pounded this thing out..entirely unbeta'd and I apologize in advance if this seems weird, I will more than likely edit later._

_On a side note, I am looking for a beta reader..I want to get this story right, and desperately need someone to keep me on direction. If you're interested please message me on here._

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The first thing Dean notices when he wakes up is a dull throbbing headache. The second thing is the sound of laptop keys tapping. With a groan he rolls over towards the sound, keeping his eyes shut against the light. He cracks them open and looks at the clock, 9 am, not too late, he can get in another hour or so. He sighs and settles back down.

"Don't even think about it Dean, we need to get going and I already let you sleep in past me."

Another groan. Why the hell does Sammy have to be such a morning person. Doesn't seem right to face the prospect of another day on Earth with so much pep in your step. "There better be coffee or I'm staying right where I am."

"On the nightstand."

Thank god for little miracles. Dean sits up and reaches for the cup, noticing too late that he had forgotten to get dressed after his shower the night before. He snaps the covers back over his lap, blushing with embarrassment. Sam seems not to notice, staring at his laptop where he continues to type away.

"So uh, what's the plan for today? I think we need to keep looking into this." He asks, sipping on his coffee and praying for it to clear the mini-hangover he feels.

Sam stops typing for a second and glances over, annoyance all over his face. "You're still going on about that? Dean we checked it out, it's not our thing. And I just found something that _is_, out in Kentucky, looks like an _actual_ ghost causing _actual_ problems."

"I know I know but it just feels weird to me, ok?" Sam huffs and turns back to whatever he's working on. There's no reason for him to be this moody, usually Sam's pretty easy going when it comes to what Dean wants to do. Happy to go along and back up his big brother. Sure there's some complaining, and a little whining if he's in a really bad mood, but he rarely outright challenges Dean over something like this.

He saves that for the bigger things, like the time he decided he _had_ to know what John's job really was, or where Dean was sneaking off to when he got his first girlfriend. And of course when he knew how poorly Dean had dealt with dad dying and forced him to get it out. It was the big things he'd pester Dean about, not something stupid like this.

Dean begrudgingly gets up and hurries to grab some clothes.

"Dude, seriously!? I don't care what you do when I'm not here but _please_ try to remember pants. That's all I ask," Sam stares intently at the computer screen, giving his brother time to get decent before he raises his eyes and gives him as much of a bitch face as possible.

"Oh grow up Samantha, at least the view is nice" Dean snaps, trying to hide his embarrassment behind some sarcasm and false arrogance. Sam just makes a disgusted sound and closes the laptop.

"I'll meet you in the car, try not to take too long primping," Sam says, heading towards the door.

Dean's witty retort dies on his tongue as the door closes. He gives a sigh and hurries to brush his teeth and get dressed.

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"Seriously Dean, just stop being such an ass about it and admit you were wrong about this!"

"Sam! There's nothing to admit because guess what, I'm not wrong!"

"Yea, actually, you are! There is not one single bit of evidence we've seen that supports a haunting or anything else. Just a bunch of religious nuts seeing things that aren't there, and I bet there are real reasons why. I know it's hard for you to be wrong about anything but-"

Dean slams on the brakes a bit harder than he meant to, sorry baby, and throws open the door to the Impala. "You know what, I think you need some time to think. Why don't you go grab us some breakfast while I do _our_ job and search the place."

Sam glares at him through the windshield, mouth screwed up in displeasure, but slides over to the drivers seat. He takes a few deep breaths before leaning out of the window to yell at Dean's back where he's walking toward the church. "Why don't _you_ take time to think too. You're acting like dad, and we both know I don't mean that in a good way." He rolls up the window and backs out of the parking lot before Dean can get a retort out. He settles for a middle finger shoved toward the car as he pushes into the church.

Stupid ass little brothers, sometimes he swears whatever god there is made Sammy so different from the other men of the family just to spite them all. Always rebelling against any authority he's shown, it's downright maddening. Dean mutters to himself under his breath, shoving his hands in his jeans and starting towards the pulpit.

That queer feeling rises in him suddenly, like hot water is flowing into his chest, and he immediately realizes that he forgot to get any equipment out of the car. He gives a groan of annoyance, at himself for being in too much of a hurry to get away and at Sam for pissing him off and making him forget to do the job right. He should be trying to get a read on what's causing the change in...what? Air pressure? Magnetic fields? Sammy would know.

He keeps shuffling towards the front of the church then stops to sit in a pew a few rows back. It's about the same place as he was in during that dream, in fact, even the dust floating in the morning sun is the same. Except there's a difference, the dream had evening sunlight from the opposite windows. He glances around, already getting antsy from being alone and having no distractions.

Maybe Sam was right, he is being kind of stubborn about this, although it's no excuse for how out of line Sam is. If he was moody at the motel then it's nothing compared to how argumentative he was in the car. Another example to add to his argument that Sam has PMS, which is worse since Dean got back from the vacation in the fiery lake. But as much of a point as Sam has that he's being stubborn he is most certainly _not_ acting like John. Sam may not have enjoyed having him as a father, but with Dean he had always been a role model. Not the most perfect one of course, but hey, the man was human after all. He'd taught Dean all about hunting, given him manageable tasks, instilled in him a sense of responsibility to family and those who need help. Not bad traits to have, if you take away the near alcoholism and anti-social behaviors that went along with it. And those would have developed after he got out of Hell anyways- nope, not thinking about that place and time. Didn't happen.

God this is depressing. And being here in the church that he had a creepy ass dream about isn't helping at all. Dean huffs a little and slumps down to rest his head in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. What the hell is happening with him. It's just ridiculous how depressed he is, and Sam must be noticing with how cranky he's been.

_Plink_.

Deans heart drops into the wooden floor as a shot of adrenaline runs icy into his veins. What the fuck was that. That sounded like a fucking organ note. Which is impossible because there are no ghosts and _of cours_e Dean doesn't have any equipment with him, only a gun. Lot of good bullets will do him against a ghost.

He stands slowly, eyes trained on the organ's keyboard that sits several pews in front of him next to the raised stage. The pipes are behind the pulpit, shining golden in the morning sun. He takes a few steps to the left to place him in the aisle and creeps forward, breathing through his mouth to keep his breaths silent. There's no disturbance in the air, and there had only been the one note. Maybe he's already startled the spirit away, or it used all it's energy making that one sound. Maybe it's another episode of him just losing his mind, which is happening far too frequently in this building.

"You better like what I picked jerk, because I'm not getting you- Dean, what are you doing?"

Of course Sam has to pick the worst time to come bursting in. Dean spins, probably looking half crazed out of his mind, if the weirded out face Sam has is anything to go by. But he catches sight of the McDonald's bag and quickly composes himself.

"I forgot to bring in the EMF but Sam I swear to you that there is something in here. Something played the organ a few seconds ago." He starts up the aisle, "We are _absolutely_ doing another sweep through here, but first, it's breakfast time."

He brushes past Sam out into the parking lot, feeling both better and worse as soon as he leaves the building. "You...what? Seriously?" Sam follows him back to where the Impala is parked. They eat their gloriously greasy breakfast while Dean gives a short run down of what happened and just how creepy he thinks the church is.

"Huh, well Dean, it looks like _something _is happening here. I don't know if we need to do anything about it but-"

"I'm sorry Sammy, one more time? It looks like, what?" Dean cups his hand to his ear, feigning that he didn't hear correctly.

Sam rolls his eyes, "You were right, there's something here, ok? Frikken five year old," he mumbles the last bit into his hash brown.

"Exactly! I was right and you were wrong. Sorry Sammy, it's just the way the world is," Dean beams, taking childish glee in winning over his brother.

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Suburbs are the modern world's worst invention. The sameness, the fake happy Stepford crap, the scheduled regularity. It's creepier than half the shit they deal with on a regular basis. But, at least it makes getting information out of people easy. Put on a nice smile, a suit, wave a badge, they open up like a bar hookers legs. The plain brown stone house they roll up to has the exact same style as all the others they've passed in this neighborhood. Only real difference is the bright green front door and clashing red flowers in a box beside it. At least there's a massive tree in the front yard, would be great for climbing. And yea, so maybe Dean is an overgrown five year old, but there's nothing wrong with appreciating a good climbing tree.

Mrs. Corder answers a few minutes after they ring the front door, aliases in place and ready to weasel information out of her. True to Stepford form she's dressed fashionably yet modestly, nice fitting jeans with a pretty blue sweater that makes her white blonde hair seem almost yellow. Her smile gets brighter when she takes them in, eyes lighting up when they turn to Sam. "Hello, how can I help you?"

"Hi, Mrs. Corder? I'm Sam Wood, this is my cousin Dean Lynne. We're sorry to bother you, but we're new to the area. Pastor Mark sent us, we're interested in learning more about the Bible study you lead."

"Oh, well yes of course, please come in! I'm glad he sent you over, we're always happy to grow our little group!" She pulls the door open wide, allowing them to step in. At her insistence they leave their shoes at the door and follow her down the hall to the living room that opens into the kitchen.

She preens the entire way to the seats in the living room, fluffing her hair a little, subtly rearranging her shirt to lay flatter, basically putting on a show for them. Dean just rolls his eyes and settles onto one end of the couch. Better for Sam to handle this one, and thankfully Sam does just that. Years and years of picking up on what will open witnesses up the most.

"So, Mrs. Corder, we were-"

"Oh please, call me Ann!"

"Ok, Ann, um, what could you tell us about the group? We wanted to make sure that it'll be a good fit."

She starts in on a long discussion with Sam about the purpose of their study group, constantly batting her eyes and smiling far more than entirely necessary. At least she hasn't gone full creep yet. Dean tries to remain positive looking, but it's getting harder to fake a smile and besides she isn't paying attention to him anyways. Completely bored, he asks her for directions to the bathroom, and leaves Sam to deal with things. All that coffee in the morning was running straight past his stomach and into his bladder.

He goes back into the hall they'd first entered and quickly uses the bathroom. Aching pressure relieved he takes his time going back into the living room. Nothing wrong with giving Sammy some more time to butter her up, plus some snooping around could go a long way. Not that she has anything to do with the haunting or whatever this is. Just good to know more so he can milk out information.

There are dozens of pictures on the wall opposite the bathroom, doesn't even require sneaking around to find, which makes Dean feel a little better about it. Cute family, two kids and a rather normal looking husband. The pictures go from one kid being a baby (a girl), then the second kid coming along (another girl), and continuing through them growing up and all their family vacations. The last pictures must be the most recent, since Ann looks about the same in these. The only difference is the oldest girl is clearly undergoing some harsh treatments, her head covered in a pretty floral scarf where her blonde hair had been in the other pictures. Cancer is such a bitch like that, hitting at random regardless of age.

Dean has barely a few seconds to feel bad for the poor kid before someone comes bursting in through the front door. Scratch that, two someones, and they're pretty little too. They barely pause to notice him as he's crouched, reaching for a knife, as they breeze past and run into the living room.

Oh yea, right, makes sense that the kids in the pictures would actually live here. Dean rolls his eyes at himself. Almost ruined the whole thing pulling a knife on two little girls. Speaking of which, wasn't the older one supposed to be sick?

They've gathered behind where their mom is sitting, the youngest looking shyly at Sam while the older and _non-bald_ one giggles and whispers to her sister. Ann turns and tells them to get rid of their school things and go get some playing in before dinner later.

Dean comes to sit back down next to Sam as they file out of the room, giggling and running up the stairs.

"Sorry, I didn't get a chance to introduce you, they're in one of their playful moods today. Those are my two girls, Grace and Leah." Ann says, looking slightly uncomfortable. Probably having the reminder of her family makes her flirting with Sam seem inappropriate. Which yes, Dean would like to point out, it was.

"I hate to ask ma'am, but I was looking at your pictures out there, and Grace seems a lot healthier than she did in some of them. Treatment go well?" Dean says, ignoring the confused look Sam gives him.

Ann seems to wilt at the question. "Well no not really, it was actually a miracle that she's better. About a year ago she was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor, and they immediately started her on rounds of chemo. At best we could hope that it wouldn't grow further or spread, " she takes a moment to breathe and swallow at the painful memory, "They'd only given her a few years at best, and we tried to make the most of what we could. That was around the time we started attending church again, it was a comfort to have the support."

"If it was inoperable, then how is she doing better?" Sam was pulling out his best concerned and open puppy dog face. Which may or may not be fake, Dean couldn't really tell.

Ann brightened, "It was truly a miracle, which I know sounds cliche, but honestly we have no other way of describing it! About five months ago she started feeling healthier, had more energy and hope. We thought it had something to do with the chemo working, but during her next check up they couldn't find a trace of the tumor. Just like that, gone! It was just.." she wipes a tear away as she smiles, "It was more than we could have dreamed of, we'd been ready to say goodbye, but by the grace of God we have our daughter back. All those months of praying that they'd overlooked a treatment or..just..anything! It's what prompted me to start up this Bible study, God provides so much for those who seek."

Sam reached forward and put a hand on her arm, smiling in a sickeningly joyful way, "That's amazing Ann. God truly is great. What an amazing story of faith."

Ann wipes away a few more tears, giving him a grateful smile back. Dean might actually vomit if this gets anymore sappy. "It wasn't just our family, there are so many in the congregation who have experienced rewards for their faith."

That piques his interest right back into the conversation, "Oh really? What kind of rewards exactly?"

More than happy to share stories of faith, Ann gives them several accounts of family hit by various hardships that had 'miraculously' received help in their time of need. One couple had been barren for years, and had begun looking into adoption, when they suddenly conceived. Another family had lost their home and possessions in a fire, only to find out a week later that an anonymous benefactor had given them enough money to start over. And just the week before the son of a woman in Ann's study had been involved in a bombing while on duty in Iraq. He was the sole survivor, not a scratch on him.

As they listened to the stories she shared Sam asked the questions Dean had forgotten to ask. When did these 'miracles' happen? Did anyone feel anything, like a presence? Was other weird phenomena happening? But according to Ann, everything was normal. Just honest deserving people having a string of good luck.

As they took their leave, Sam gets pensive, his eyes narrowed a little in thought with a small wrinkle between his brows. Dean knows his brooding pensive face, and leaves him to his thoughts, driving them to the diner in town to talk things over. He has theories of his own running through his mind a mile a minute. The entire circumstances remind him immediately of the reaper that had been chained to the creepy priest guy Sam took him to a few years ago. Or was it bound to the wife? Yea, it was the wife. Religious types always have weird dark shit circulating through their ranks, makes sense that someone here would fall into the same thing. Could even be this Ann lady, though she seemed a little too naive for binding a reaper to her bidding.

They get to the diner and take seats towards the back. Sam thinks and jots down notes while Dean orders and they wait for their food. They're half way through their fries before Sam looks up and starts in on his thoughts.

"Ok so this doesn't make _any_ sense Dean. It sounds exactly like that bound reaper we saw a few years ago, as far as these miracles go. I mean, this stuff can't all be coincidences. That little girl's cancer...I mean, that just doesn't happen naturally," He takes a moment to shovel in a few more bites of his burger, "Except there's no weird deaths happening around town or even outside of the area, plus it's not just medical things that are being changed."

"Yea that's a good point, I was thinking the same thing. But what else could this even be? Do the timelines match up?"

"That's the thing, they do. None of this kind of stuff was happening before they started having the weird haunting things. Maybe it's just a really caring spirit?"

Dean scoffs. Like they'd get the luck to find a _friendly_ ghost for once. Nope, they always got the weirdest shit. "Sam that makes no sense. Why don't we just call Bobby tomorrow and maybe he'll have something stashed away about this." They go back to their meals for a few minutes, mulling over the possibilities.

_Crash._

Dean jumps, startled by the sudden thunder. Sam just looks up and gives him a barely suppressed giggle. "Scaredy cat."

"Shut it bitch. Not my fault I hate storms." Dean mutters, scarfing down the rest of his meal to distract himself from the quickly building storm outside. They hadn't noticed how dark the clouds had gotten, too absorbed in the case to pay attention. But Dean was noticing now, for sure. _Fuck _he hates storms. Always makes his moods darker and the flashes remind him too much of the weird lightening in Hell. That stuff had been the product of nightmares, randomly going off and searing straight through your spine. Just hearing the thunder outside had him flinching with the memories.

"Let's just get out of here and see what's on TV, I think we deserve a relaxing night for a change."

Sam laughs, licking the fry salt off his fingers. "Haven't we had plenty of those recently? I'm eager to get out of here, so I'm calling Bobby when we get back. You do...whatever it is you do when you relax. But _clothes_ this time, ok?"

Dean isn't paying attention to him at this point, glaring nervously out at the clouds that are gathering closer and the small sporadic lights in the distance. With a roll of his eyes Sam gets up to go pay, telling Dean to go wait in the car before he knifes someone on accident. Which is certainly a possibility, since he has a death grip on the pocketknife in his jeans.

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They get back to the motel in record time, nearly running through two red lights on the way. Sam says nothing, but his face shows that he sees Dean's discomfort. The rain has started pouring and rolling down the windshield as Dean sits in the Impala, wanting to get inside but hoping there will be a lull in the storm to allow the run. Sam has no such reservations and piles out, sprinting to their room and slamming the door behind him.

Dean hums songs to himself as he waits, eyes closed, hoping that the thunder just _goes away_ sometime soon. The nervous feeling in him isn't helping that deep ache that's followed him for months. If he was one for those sorts of things he'd want to be held, but no, Dean Winchester is not a pussy. He doesn't do scared cuddling, in fact, he isn't scared. He's just relaxing, being soothed by the rain.

_He opens his eyes, taking in the downpour of rain and flashes of lightening. There's a thunderclap directly above him, rumbling deep into his bones, making him feel like a tiny earthquake shattered the ground below him._

_That's weird, the Impala is gone. He's out in the rain, standing in a parking lot, but also oddly dry. O shit this can't be real. Now he's not only crazy but he's probably hallucinating too, awesome. At least he knows where this is, that stupid church with that stupid ghost in this stupid town. Another flash of lightening illuminates the building, making the usually colorful stained glass look entirely monotone._

_The empty pit in his chest opens wide during the next roll of thunder. It feels like someone has reached in with a shovel and scooped out something important, something that should be there. He tries to walk across the lot, hoping to get under the cover of the doorway on the church, but finds he cannot move. Great, another dream where he's frozen._

_Another burst of thunder and lightening. Something feels wrong. Or at least, more wrong. If only he could get _inside_ the church and hide out for the rest of the storm. He can feel something coming, good or bad he doesn't know._

_Just then another rumble starts, building slowly with that grating rock noise thunder gets when it's directly above you. He can feel it reverberating in his bones, making the joints feel tight with the electricity in the air. A moment before the lightening hits the hair on his body stands up, a sharp prickle running down his spine. The lightening hits the top point of the church, a cross, just as the doors fling open, spilling light into the night. _

_A figure is blocking out some of the light, but with all of the backlighting Dean can't make out who they are or what they look like. The shadow they cast looks almost like they're wearing a dress? With pants? No, that's definitely a long coat. And if the short hair means anything then it's a man. And he's yelling Dean's name out into the storm, voice blending in with the next rumble of thunder._

Dean yells back, but too late notices that he's yelling at the windshield. Holy hell that was a genuine goddamn hallucination but it was so _real._ His heart is pounding, adrenaline racing into the tips of his fingers and making them shake as he punches out a text to Sam, "_Going to church. Will explain. Stay where you are."_

Pedal to the metal he takes off across town to the church. Fortunately, with the storm going on there is no traffic. In his haste and excitement he forgets about the storm, focused entirely on making it there to figure out what the hell is going on and why these dream/hallucinations are happening. There has to be a connection, there just has to be. He didn't have this crap going on before he found the case. Sure he had nightmares of Hell that were real enough to leave him screaming and drenched in sweat, Sam holding him to a mattress with his full weight to keep him from hurting himself. But those were still less real than these. He could _feel _and _smell_ and _remember_ them all perfectly.

It only takes 5 minutes to reach the church parking lot. He slams on the brakes a little harder than he normally would, but baby will understand this time. Throwing open the door to get out he ignores the rain, closing the door behind him as he takes off for the church door.

Thunder roars around him as he jogs in, but he's lost the fear for it. Right now there is one thing on his mind, and that's this weird pull to the church and whether or not he's going crazy. Rain be damned he's getting to the bottom of this.

The front doors are soaked with rain water, and it doesn't look like there are lights on inside. But with all his weight thrown into the pull of both doors they glide open, blessedly unlocked.

The hall inside is dark, no lights to help him see. But a moment later the thunder bursts through the sky again, lightening striking nearby. And in the brief second of light he sees a man at the organ on the far side of the church who whips his head around and stares straight at him. The moment the light dissipates he hears a gravely voice cut through the darkness.

"Hello, Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

_Welcome to the story Cas! Longer chapter this time, enjoy and let me know how it goes!  
_

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Holy hell the ghost is speaking to him. The one from that vision or some crap and it's actually _here_. Dean stares straight at the point where he had seen the ghost, but in the darkness he can see nothing. "Look man, you need to work with me here. You're dead and-" thunder crashes again, starling Dean for a moment, "and we're going to get you to wherever you need to go. This doesn't have to be a fight."

It may be a Sam move but talking to the thing seems like the logical approach right now. Every report says it's ambivalent, right? I mean, it may not even _be_ a ghost, what with all the weird miracle crap going on. O hell this is confusing.

"Dean, what are you-? I'm not a spirit, Dean."

It's closer. That was not spoken from the other end of the hall, sounded more like halfway. And now Dean can pick out the footsteps over the sound of rain pummeling the ceiling and windows. At least he wants to believe it's just the rain making that sound and not his heart. He quickly takes stock of what weapons he has on him. No gun, silver knife in his pocket, no salt, dammit he should have come in prepared. John would have chewed him out for being so careless if he was here. Better keep the thing talking and avoid a fight then.

Another flash of lightening, the spirit has stopped at the last row of pews, a confused expression on his face. It's definitely the figure from his dream vision thing, the coat matches. Dean doesn't have time to study much else, glancing around for some iron before the light disappears again. Ah ha! Cast iron stand for the church bulletins on his right. Just gotta get to it.

"Ok so if you're not a spirit then what are you? Do you think you're still alive or something?" Gotta keep it talking, stall while he inches over towards where he saw the stand.

"Yes of course I'm alive."

"Right. Well if you're alive then how come you're creeping around in a church in the dark?" Just a few more steps and the stand will be within grabbing distance.

"You do realize that you are in this church as well. In the dark."

Got it! He grabs the pole of the stand, knocking the papers off it as he swings towards where he last heard the spirits voice coming from. It connects with something solid and holds. A cadence of _fuckfuckfuck_ begins running on a loop in Dean's head. This is _not _going according to plan.

Lightening strikes again, and he nearly pees his pants. The spirit, well apparently not spirit at this point, is holding onto the end of the pole, disbelief and annoyance all over his face. He gives a big sigh, and Dean swears he rolled his eyes but the light cut out again. They're thrown back into the shadows, staring off without seeing. "Dean, this is nonsense."

"Who or what are you and how do you know my name?"

"Can you let go of the stand first? I assure you, it is unnecessary."

"Not a chance, now answer the questions!"

Another sigh comes through, overlapping with the rolling thunder. "This would be much easier if you were less combative." The grip on the stand releases suddenly and Dean nearly drops the damn thing from the sudden lack of support. He lowers it to his side, ready to strike out again if he needs to. Not that the iron apparently does any good, but having something to swing is a comfort.

"I will answer your questions, but first," a light hanging directly above them flickers on just as a finger snap rings out. Dean squints a little at the sudden change and takes a step back, getting out of range of whatever this thing is. He runs through lists in his head quickly, scratching off every supernatural being that he can think of. This is like nothing he's seen before and apparently it can manipulate things, if the light is anything to go by. He needs to be ready for whatever it throws at him.

"In order, I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord. And there is not an angel in Heaven or on Earth that does not know your name," he says with a deep voice that nearly matches the rumble of thunder outside.

What. The. Fk. Dean's brain takes a leave of absence as he lets out a nervous little laugh, which was _not_ a giggle. Angels? What's next, Cupid? Toy Story is real?

"Why are you laughing Dean? I am completely serious." Castiel's eyes crinkle a little and he turns his head slightly, eying Dean in what looks like suspicious annoyance.

Dean's sure he looks absolutely ridiculous, staring wide eyed and trying hard not to laugh at the next thought he has. The laughter wins out and he lets out another choked off sound of amusement.

"What is so funny?" Castiel has now moved from suspicious to self-conscious, and lets his freakishly intense gaze drop from Dean, looking around them as though he could find the answer on a wall.

"So you're...an angel. And you're hanging out like a total creep...in an old church. You've gotta see how weird that is man." Dean says, shoulders shaking in amusement. I mean, if this guy really _is_ an angel, or whatever, it's pretty frikken hilarious. The church goers have been getting spooked over an _angel_ living among them. If only they knew.

Castiel looks even more confused now, tilting his head and furrowing his brow in a way that reminds Dean of Sam. He feels out the next words slowly, almost as though he's waiting for a trap. "Yes, I have been posted here. I am free to go where I would like, but prefer to stay within the comfort of the church."

Dean's pretty sure that leave of absence his brain took has officially been extended into a resignation. This shit cannot be real, in any dimension or imagination. But hey, might as well play along until Sam wakes him up from whatever dream this is, because he's damn sure this is another of those bizzaro lucid dreams. He's probably still sitting in the Impala outside the motel. "Ok then...angel...how do I know you're for real. I see a lot of crazy in my line of work, and let me tell you, no one's ever seen or heard of _angels_ being real. I'm honestly thinking that you're just some crazed pencil pusher that got a little too stressed during tax season."

With a small sigh the confusion leaves Castiel's face. He looks upward and almost seems to be contemplating or waiting on something. Dean takes the moment to give him a once over. This 'Castiel' is an interesting mix of things, that's for sure. The trench coat, and from the looks of it, suit underneath scream perfectionist office worker. The rumpled dark hair that has just a hint of curl looks like he just woke up. But the real kicker and confusing part is the strong jawline, slight shadow of scruff, and overall attractiveness.

Now, Dean is not gay. In fact, he's not even a little curious. However, when you screw around with girls as much as he does, you _do_ notice when another male who could knock you out of the competition comes along. And whatever this guy is, he's certainly better looking than Dean feels a supernatural being should be.

At least he's the taller and broader one. Ha! Score for humanity.

With a barely expressed look of approval Castiel looks back down at him, coming out of his thinking. Oh and of course he has bright blue eyes to contrast the dark edgy hair. It's just not fair for a _man_ to have those kind of looks. They belong on a girl. Kinda reminds Dean of that one yoga teacher a few years back. What was her name? Linda? No, it was Laura.

"I have been given permission to show you a small extension of my power in order to help you believe. Please, come with me." Castiel turns from Dean, walking the few feet towards the front doors.

Dean stands his ground, watching Castiel pull open the doors and look out into the stormy night. The wind that blows in whips his coat around and makes his rumpled hair even more unruly. He pauses for a moment before turning his head to Dean, silently waiting for him to follow.

"I'm good right here. You can show me whatever it is here or not show me at all." He's already soaked through from his run inside earlier, not really feeling like adding to the pneumonia he'll probably get by standing out in the rain. Plus, the storm is starting to make him uneasy again. Castiel's shoulders slump a small bit and he turns back to looking out at the parking lot. Dean can't see his face, but gets the feeling that his stubbornness is annoying the guy. He does inch over though, giving himself a better view outside from around Castiel. He's still out of arms reach, with the stand held at the ready beside him. Just in case.

As he watches, Castiel puts one hand out toward the sky. The clouds are dark shadows, shifting and swirling with the storm, occasional flashes of lightening brighten from far away. Dean can't see his face, but Castiel's shoulders have tensed up again as he stares out past his hand.

Dean's about had enough with all of this when he sees the clouds veering unnaturally. From a central point out beyond the church parking lot they begin retreating, rolling in on themselves and pushing outwards. A stretch of clear sky is exposed, like a drop of oil in the middle of a shifting lake. The clouds continue to part, letting through more and more sky, until Dean can glimpse stars shining above. It's bizarre, the thunderstorm continuing all around them, and yet here is a calm refuge in the middle.

"Are you-? How?" Dean stumbles over the question. He sees crazy and unimaginable things on a regular basis, but has never seen nature manipulated around like this. This Castiel guy is like a kid in a sandbox, just shaping the sky how he sees fit. It's blowing Dean's mind more than a little, and he desperately wants this to be real. Because if this is a dream, then dammit he doesn't want to wake up, this is too cool.

With a sigh Castiel lowers his hand back to his side. The break in the clouds slowly crashes back together, seamlessly becoming part of the storm again. He addresses Dean over his shoulder, still facing out at the rain and wind. "That took far more power than I imagined. But I hope it was enough to persuade you of the sincerity of my word."

"Ok yea, you're one badass little dude. Still creeping in a church. But hey, whatever you gotta do." Just keep him talking. Just get information out and then go talk to Sammy. Maybe Bobby's hidden something about this from them, maybe he has contacts that can confirm or deny.

"I am not...creeping," he says, turning to Dean. He had to feel out that last word, as though it was foreign and unusual on his tongue. "I was stationed here on Earth and _chose_ to stay in this church. I find it peaceful. It allows me to reflect in solitude as well as assist those who are faithful to my Father."

"Assist people. Right. You realize everyone here thinks you're a ghost."

"Yes Dean, you did make that abundantly clear." Castiel squints his eyes a little, looking vaguely annoyed at Dean's reaction.

Dean just scowls back. This is feeling less like a dream now that the sky has stopped parting and the cold of his clothes is starting to seep into his bones. Dreams would be comfortable, not chilly and awkward. But if this guy is for real, then that opens an entire library worth of problems. Angels have _never_ been on the list of supernatural, of that Dean is certain.

Castiel is still looking at him as though he's the dumbest rock in the pile. The expression is starting to piss him off. "So if angels are real then how come no hunter's ever come across one of you before? And if you're 'assisting' people then how come only now and only here? You know there's an entire _world_ that could use more help than some uppity people in Massachusetts!"

"We are very secretive, so of course the existence of angels has been mostly kept from common knowledge. But this is far from first time that one of my kind has walking among you." He softens his expression and turns to begin walking down the aisle as he talks. "Those of us who choose to do what we were created for have always been among you. I am sure you know of stories from your World Wars, Civil Wars, ship wrecks, discoveries, that just seem slightly off. We keep to the background, providing where we can, ensuring that humanity stays on track."

"Well you've gone a _great_ job." Dean says with more sarcasm than he intended.

Castiel turns at that, halfway up the aisle from where he'd been walking. He's moved beyond the reaches of the single light, Dean can't read his expression anymore, but his tone is absolute and full of certainty. "Policing the human race is not our job, Dean. You were given free will, you may do with it as you see fit. We just protect."

They face off for a long uncomfortable moment. Dean can feel the soul piercing stare the angel gives and feels exposed. Laid open before someone far more righteous and powerful than himself. It's a little like when John would chastise him as a child, but without the humiliation. He takes stock of his stance, subconsciously squaring his shoulders and filling his chest under the scrutiny. Noticing the iron stand he still has in a death grip he sets it back in its place, stooping to pick up the scattered papers. And no, it isn't to avoid being stared at, it's a nice gesture.

"Well as long as you're not hurting people then I guess me and my brother can just pack up and leave you to it. He's certainly eager to get out of here." Dean sets the papers back on the stand and with nothing else to do reluctantly looks back at Castiel. Who is still unmoving in the shadows. Dean gives a light chuckle, "You know, I _knew_ there was something off about this place. Guess it makes sense, what with the actual power of God or Morgan Freeman or whatever coming from you." Castiel still stares at him, and Dean's heart starts speeding up. He only gets looks like that when he's about to be attacked or laid. Time to get out. He takes a few steps back towards the door. "Just stay out of my dreams or whatever that was earlier, and we're cool, ok?"

_That_ breaks through the impression of a severe rock Castiel's doing, he slowly takes a few steps forwards. As he comes into the light Dean can see that his eyes have widened in surprise, though otherwise he looks unaffected. "What do you mean?"

"The weird hovering one yesterday? Yelling at me through the storm?" Dean tries, but Castiel just tilts his head. "You know what, never mind. Just...keep doing whatever it is you're doing. Play 'Kumbaya' on the organ or heal little girls, whatever floats your boat." Just a few more steps to the door and he can bolt out of this little awkward slice of hell.

"I don't have a boat, Dean."

As much as he's screaming with laughter in his mind, Dean stays straight faced. "Of course. Well it's been...nice."

Castiel stands where he is, actionless and awkward, though his eyes look saddened. "Yes Dean. It was, nice, meeting you."

Dean turns to go, grabbing onto a door handle and starting to leave when Castiel says one last thing. Though he says it quietly, as though it's a secret he doesn't want anyone else overhearing. "If you ever have need of me, just pray and I will come." A whisper of air follows, and when Dean turns to look back the church is empty once again.

* * *

The drive back to the motel feels like it takes seconds, even though Dean knows full well it's a five minute route. He's bursting with energy, mind running every which direction. It's like being drunk on whiskey, but with clear thoughts and better reflexes.

God what is he going to tell Sam? Kids probably going to have some type of epiphany about this, as much as he likes to believe in Heaven. Dean wouldn't call his brother a Bible thumper by any means, but he's always held on to the belief that angels are watching over them.

He rolls up to the motel room they booked, noting that the light is still on, and hurries out of the Impala to the door. The weird high he'd been riding since 'the angel incident', as he's now calling it in his head, has started to fade. That pit in his chest is slowly coming back, but every time he thinks about the clouds being parted like some insane version of Moses and the Red Sea he feels that hole close up again. It's an unsettling fluttering feeling. He knocks three times on the door, "Sammy it's me, coming in." They've learned to announce themselves over the years when they come back unexpectedly. One too many guns pointed at heads to just burst in.

Sam is sprawled out on his bed, head propped up on some pillows reading some sci-fi book. Dean would knock out anyone who said it but him, but Sam was kind of a nerd. The annoyed expression he gets for interrupting Sam's reading just proves it. But there are _bigger_ things to think about now. News to share, freak outs to have.

"Sam, you are absolutely not going to guess what just happened to me."

"You look like a drowned rat Dean. What, you get laid out in the rain or something?" Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to his book, clearly uninterested.

"Not even close Sam, though that _is_ going on my list of things to try." He goes to sit on the edge of his bed, giving Sam a self-satisfied grin. "I found out what's in that church."

That gets the attention he wanted, though still not the surprise he can't wait to see on Sam's face. "Ok...and what is it? Ghost or reaper?"

"Neither actually. It's sort of cliche now that I think about it, but hey, guys gotta hide out where he's comfortable I guess."

Sam marks his page and puts the book down, giving Dean an annoyed huff. "Get on with it Dean."

"An angel of the frikken Lord" Dean says, smirking and eagerly waiting for the reaction he wants.  
He's disappointed on that front though, Sam just groans and picks his book back up, clearly not believing. "Sam I'm serious, there's an angel in there and he looks like he belongs in a cubicle somewhere but he did this miracle power thing and-"

"Dean!" Sam barks out, concern crossing his face to quickly be replaced by an overly calm expression. "Look I know you're stressed and want to think something's there, but let's try and be rational," he puts the book down again and pushes up til he's sitting facing Dean, "Angel's have never been seen, and yea, it's a comfort to think we're being watched over, I get that. But Dean, they aren't real."

Not exactly the reaction Dean was going for, but at least he has Sam's attention now. "I'm not imagining this Sam, I'm telling you, this guy was for real. And since when do you not believe in angels and Heaven and all that crap?"

Sam looks away for a moment, taking a breath to steel himself, "Since you went to Hell."

That sentence hangs heavy in the air and neither of them look at the other. Dean refused to talk about Hell with Sam, had for the five months he's been back, and Sam stopped asking a while ago. They barely even bring it up, just refer to it as 'when Dean was gone'. It was only four months for Sam but he changed so much. Dean gets it, grief does that to a person, and for all Sammy knew he'd lost his brother in the worst way imaginable.

Sam starts back again, voice quieter this time, "I spent that last month you were here praying that someone would help us. That they'd work a miracle or something," he runs a hand through his hair, "and then for the first three months you were gone, I kept visiting churches, begging for the angels, or God, or anyone to fix it. But no one came Dean. No one answered. And if you're telling me that an angel has time to sit around a church healing random people but can't come _save my brother from Hell," _his voice had risen in anger but quieted back again as he finished, "then no, that I can't believe in."

They stay silent for a moment, lost in thought as Dean takes in the information and tries to process it. He doesn't blame Sam at all for his conclusion, it's rational considering all that had happened. But he _knows_ that he's wrong, and can't think of a way to show Sam that what had happened with what's-his-face, Castille? something with a 'Cas', had been completely and unavoidably _real_.

Dean gets a jittery feeling when he remembers the last thing the angel had said to him as he left the church. He had no idea how to really pray or what good it would do, but maybe the guy would be willing to prove himself to Sam like he did to Dean earlier. Worth a shot at least.

He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see Sam's stupid face and starts. "Uhm dear Cast-..uh Cas-something, I know it's been all of about 10 minutes but you said I could pray to you and you'd come? My brother said he doesn't believe in angels so, if it's not too much trouble could you come prove him wrong?" He pops open one eye, taking in Sam's fiercest bitch face. Nothing happens.

"Maybe you pissed him off by forgetting his name, Dean," Sam says sarcastically, "Wouldn't be the first time you forget someone's name in the middle of-"

With a small displacement of air and the smell of cinnamon and rain water the angel appears at the end of their beds, looking unaffected at the sudden appearance.

"Hello again, Dean."

The uncomfortable awkwardness that settles in his chest is entirely worth Sam's face right now. Shock doesn't even begin to cover his expression, and it's almost movie comical how he slowly gets up, wide eyes never leaving the angel in front of him. Cas (Dean's decided the rest of the name isn't too important) regards Sam with something resembling open curiosity, as though he's never seen a human before. Though his eyes squint up in a moment, closing up his openness.

"Cas, this is Sam. Sam, meet Cas. Told you I wasn't making it up."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Samuel, even if you are tainted."

Poor Sam is a man of extremes today, his entire being sagging with crestfallen puppy eyes. He flicks a glance at Dean, then is back to the angel. "It's...Sam. And...how do you know-?"

"Just as the angels know of Dean they also are aware of you. Your plight has not escaped our notice," he shifts slightly, glancing over at Dean, "And it's Castiel, in case you'd forgotten."

"Heh, kinda did, but I think I like Cas better. Easier to say." Dean says, leaning back on his hands to take in the incredibly awkward scene before him. "Plus you deserve it for being such a total dick to Sammy right out of the gate."

Castiel's brows furrow, "I was simply stating the truth. I bear no ill-will towards Sammy though."

"Yea, you don't get to call him that." Castiel looks deeply confused now, like he's never heard of nicknames and rules that go with them. And as clearly sheltered as he is probably hasn't. He gives a small nod of understanding though, and glances between the two of them, waiting for whatever comes next. Which now that Dean thinks about it, he doesn't know what that is either.

"Well uh, thanks for coming and clearing that up. Kinda hard to argue with real living proof, you know?" Dean says awkwardly, not wanting to throw the guy out when he just got here but not having any reason why he should stick around.

"This is so unfair." Sam mumbles. Dean looks back over at him and notes the dark expression slowly spreading over his brother's features. He's seen that look before, it always proceeds a bitch fit.

"I spent _months_ praying to you guys. I prayed myself hoarse a few times, screaming for you to pay attention and _help_ Dean. And I got ignored." Sam looms closer to Castiel, easily dwarfing the angel, "But Dean. Dean just prays once for you to show up and say 'hello' and you do it. What the hell."

"Sam, it is more complicated than you seem to think. We were working to do what you asked, but it took time to implement plans. We couldn't just stop everything to come talk-"

"But you can now?! And what plans?" Sam is raising his voice now, getting that entitled angry tone to it that he always used against John.

"Come on Sam, it's not that big of a deal. Let the poor guy alone, I doubt he had anything to do with it," Dean tries. He gets up and puts a hand on Sam's shoulder, hoping to calm him down. Sam just shrugs it off, eyes never leaving Castiel's. Castiel just stares back, eyes narrowed in annoyance, starting to puff himself up slightly at Sam's imposing size.

"Yea actually, it is a big deal Dean! Answer me, what plans?"

Castiel huffs in irritation and glances up to search the ceiling again like he had in the church. A few seconds later he nods and looks back at Sam, fire in his blue eyes. "How exactly do you think Dean got out of Hell Sam? What could have possibly saved him where all of your attempts fell short?"

"Guys cut it out this is getting ridiculous," Dean tries again, but they were beyond listening to him.

Castiel continues, slowly moving forward into Sam's space and forcing him to take steps backwards, "Heaven has been aware of Dean for quite some time now, but we are not all-powerful. It took time to create plans and send in help. Hell is the absence of Heaven, sending in angels for one man took sacrifice, Sam, and you would do well to remember that."

Sam has put several feet between them now that Castiel has drawn himself to full height, bright thunderous rage in his eyes. The storm outside briefly cuts through the scene they make, lightening flashing over them from the window. In the flickering light Dean swears he can see shadows of wings on the back wall behind Castiel. There have been few moments where he felt truly awed in life, but this is certainly one of them. If they had any doubts as to what the being in front of them was, this little argument and display has cleared them up.

"Ok man, we get it. Now let's everyone calm the fuck down," Dean says, arms out to placate Castiel like he was a cornered animal. The fight goes out of the angel's eyes when he looks over at Dean, shadowy wings dissolving until he's back to looking like a stuffy office worker. Sam seems to have calmed down as well, though Dean can tell he isn't finished fighting this.

"Look, it's been a long day and I think we need some time to think. Why don't we talk more in the morning, ok?"

Sam just nods, making a non-committal grunt. Castiel gives a small incline of his head. "I will leave you two then. Call me again when you are ready to talk." And with another flutter of air he was gone. Dean hopes he didn't go back to the church to sit in the dark all night. It's a sad thought.

"Dean, I cannot believe that-"

"Sam! You do not get to talk right now, do you understand?" Dean thunders back. "You pissed off the angel, so you can spend the night _thinking_ instead of _talking_ because that was not cool." He stalks over to the bathroom, making quick work of brushing his teeth, then flopping down in his bed. He was too pissed at Sam to humor him with a discussion of feelings and shit tonight. As much of a relief as it was to find out it was _Heaven _and _angels_ that had gotten him out of Hell, it was far too much to process as well as listen to Sam ramble about it.

They could deal with things in the morning. For now, Dean needed to rest and have some peace and quiet. Even if he didn't sleep a bit.

* * *

_Awkward leave off point, I know, but there was no other good spot to break this entire section up. Stay with me, already working on the next bit!_


	5. Chapter 5

_For the record, I have equal parts love and hate for the finale. Kinda excited but change is hard, going to be an interesting next season at the very least! Threw myself into writing in order to deal with the feels._

_Also, would like to dedicate this chapter to my Led Zeppelin playlist - it kept me company while writing this. Unbeta'd - enjoy!_

* * *

He did not sleep much that night. And from the sounds of it neither did Sam. At first he'd made a few halted attempts at complaining about Dean's imposed silence rule, but had stopped after a few tries. Now he's just tossing and turning, occasionally sighing loudly. He just _has _to pout like a girl when Dean ignores him.

Though it's not difficult to ignore him, Dean has far more important things on his mind, like _angels are real_ and _Heaven got me out of Hell_ and _hell yes I was right about the church_. It may be childish for him to feel a sense of pride that his instincts were right about the entire thing, but childish he will be if he wants. He had to stop being a big brother when he went to Hell, so gloat he will now that he's topside.

Which brings his thoughts back to _why_ he's topside. Real honest to God fucking _angels _are the _coolest_ things ever!

I mean, that mini-tantrum that Cas had when Sam got him all pissed off? Possibly one of the greatest things Dean's ever seen. Dude has actual wings, that were pretty huge. At the moment Dean had been awed but mostly concerned with him and Sam getting through that confrontation alive. And now that he has the time to replay the entire thing? He's grinning ear to ear in the dark with still rather childish glee.

And that thought brings him back to the real issue at hand. Heaven knew he was going to Hell for Sam and it was Heaven that apparently got him out. Sam was furious that his prayers hadn't amounted to anything, that he didn't get a visit telling him they were working on it, and that it had taken so long to get Dean out. But as far as Dean was concerned? This whole thing was fucking _awesome_ news. They had stopped theorizing and researching about how he got out after about a month. The rudimentary tests had been run, Dean was healthy as a frikken horse, and there was nothing else left to do but sit back and enjoy being alive. Not that he'd really been enjoying it, but that was beside the point. Knowing what got him out of Hell hadn't been all that important to him, he was just satisfied knowing that he'd made it out. But this new revelation was certainly making him interested in the hows and whys of it all.

What would Heaven want to break him out for? He's pretty sure that his lifestyle has never made him first in line when it came to getting through the pearly gates. Mary had made sure he went to Sunday school as a toddler, but once she was gone John let all that go by the wayside. His upbringing only got as religious as memorizing exorcisms and what types of relics affects what type of monster. Sam was the one who took religion to heart. The kid was never devout but at least felt guilty when he broke commandments. Dean never really noticed them, still doesn't in fact.

Though maybe he'll have to reconsider. This Castiel guy is certainly the real deal.

He spends his night drifting between these thoughts and bouts of dozing. Even Sammy's continuous pouting from the other bed isn't enough to keep him awake all night. A man's gotta sleep when he can. A wisdom Sam doesn't seem to share since he gets up and leaves for a few hours at one point. Coming back only to throw himself down on the bed with the laptop, huffing in annoyance while he researches who-knows-what.

By morning Dean's come down from the chipper mood he'd been in the night before. That deep pit in his chest hasn't returned, but he's not bouncing off the walls with excitement either. It may have something to do with the annoyed glares Sam keeps giving him while they go about their morning routines. Every attempt at starting the conversation is put off with an excuse of needing coffee before having heart to hearts.

He manages to continue avoiding Sam for part of the drive to get breakfast before the kid snaps.

"Dean you realize you're acting exactly like Dad? You two always kept shit from me and I have _always_ hated it! We need to talk about this Dean, it's a pretty big frikken deal!" He's turned all the way to his side, glaring daggers into Dean that he can't avoid without leaving the car. Mid-highway bailing isn't in the cards, so he's gotta deal with this. It's too bad Sam hasn't realized that Dean's not hiding anything, he's just feeling proud and full of himself knowing that he's got angel's watching over him. And Sammy doesn't, so ha ha to him.

"Ok fine. What is it you want to talk about? Pretty sure things were clear last night."

Sam settles a little, finally getting Dean's attention. "First of all, why the hell would Heaven drag you out of Hell? What are they getting out of it? I doubt they went to that trouble just for kicks Dean."

The thought had occurred to him. But he liked to think it was his sunny disposition and devotion to family that had caught the angel's eyes. He gives a noncommittal grunt though, since it really is worth talking about.

"_And_ what the hell is up with this Castiel angel? I mean seriously, if angel's are so secretive no one has ever guessed they even exist, why's the guy being sloppy enough that we got onto his trail? Plus he just, I don't know, creeps me out." Sam turns from Dean to look out the windshield, slumping into himself a little.

"He's not _that_ creepy Sam. I don't know, maybe his people skills are just rusty or something?"

"Dude, are you seriously defending him? He stared at you like he wanted to butter and eat you, and stared at me like he would enjoy nothing more than ripping my throat out. It was weird."

Ok yea, Dean has to give Sam that one. Castiel did have an intense stare going, and it'd make anyone's skin crawl to feel themselves laid open for something so powerful. They pull into a space at the local mom-and-pop diner, getting out of the Impala stiffly. Sam stops next to his door, leaning over the roof with hands clasped in front of him. "Look Dean, I'm not saying we write the guy off or try to go kill him. There's just, just a lot we don't know. It'd be stupid not to question everything while we still have a chance."

Dean looks down at the faded asphalt and scuffs the toe of a boot into it. Sammy's right, and he's just given Dean a perfect excuse for what he'd felt like doing since the middle of the night. "Guess we gotta go talk to him again then, don't we?"

Sam lets out a big breath, clearly not looking forward to this like Dean is. "Yea I guess we do. But we should have a game plan, get questions figured out first."

"Sounds good, we'll go after we finish here. I am _not_ charging in on a raging tornado without some coffee and grease in my belly."

****They're still arguing over who will be the one to ask the questions when they get within sight of the old church. Dean had insisted that they do this on Cas's turf. And yes he insisted on saying 'Cas' in part due to how much it annoyed Sam and in part because it distracted him from how overwhelmingly terrifying the angel is. A nickname always makes things seem less intimidating.

"You saw how much he disliked me Dean, it won't help anything if I'm asking the questions." Sam wouldn't let it go and they were already walking up to the door.

"Yea? Well neither will me grilling him while you glare from the sidelines."

They walk into the church, now a familiar sight to Dean, and finally agree to trade questions. A quick round of rock-paper-scissors decides that Dean will start, which is honestly fine by him. The large cavernous room is empty, no angel in sight, and looks exactly the same as the morning before. Except this time Dean knows what lurked within, and feels safer for it. They head to the front of the room, sitting in the first row of pews and looking around for any sign of the angel's presence.

"Hey Cas? I know it's kinda soon but we'd like to ask you a few-"

"Hello Dean."

"-questions. Uh, that was fast." It'd only taken a few seconds before Castiel had appeared before them just in front of the steps to the pulpit, causing both Sam and Dean to jump. He still has the khaki trench coat and suit on, as well as the blank but intense expression Sam had complained of earlier. Dean takes a moment to collect his thoughts before starting in.

"Alright so here's the deal. We believe what you said about being an angel and everything, so we won't try to kill you or make you stop, but we want some answers. It's kind of our duty as hunters." He crosses his arms as he talks and leans against the back of the pew, trying to look more sure than he really is.

"I understand Dean. I will answer your questions as best as I can. Though, if it were to risk anything I am sworn to secrecy on, then I cannot tell you."

Sam makes to complain about that stipulation, but Dean waves him off with a raised hand. "That sounds reasonable. Ok then first, why are you here? I mean, here in this church."

Castiel stays standing motionless where he is, but flicks his eyes to Sam for a few seconds before returning his gaze to Dean as he speaks, "I was sent to Earth to serve out penance for an indiscretion. As I told you last night, I chose this church because it suited my purposes. And, after all, the angel's purpose is to assist what our Father has created."

"Penance for what?" Sam asks.

Castiel hesitates for a moment, eyes shifting between them and the ceiling. "I was selfish, and therefore must spend time thinking upon my moment of weakness before being allowed back to my post."

Dean snorts with amusement and tries to hide a smile, "So you're a rebel angel?"

Castiel looks at him with an unreadable expression, seeming slightly desperate and confused. He manages to stammer a few times before falling silent. Sam gives Dean a disapproving look that quells the small chuckles before questioning the angel further, "What was it you were selfish about? That seems like a pretty big punishment."

"That I cannot tell you."

They all sit in silence for a few seconds before Dean breaks the awkwardness, "I guess that settles that. Your turn Sammy."

Sam clears his throat a little, then asks their next agreed on question, "Why would Heaven want to save Dean? Things like that rarely come without a price."

Castiel's answer is almost immediate this time, "You are both hunters. You remove undesirables from this world, therefore protecting our Father's creations. There are very few hunters whose intentions are noble and true, we would prefer to keep you both able to perform your duties."

"Alright but couldn't the angel's do the hunting instead of letting humans do it?" Dean asks, "You certainly seem powerful enough to do it on your own."

"Yes, we occasionally take care of problems that would be impossible for mortals. But as I have said, we prefer to remain hidden."

Sam gives a huff and when Dean turns to look at him is pulling a condescending bitch face. He should probably stop his brother before he pisses off the angel again, but Sammy starts before he can interrupt the train of thought. "If you ask me it's _that _kind of thing that's selfish. I can't believe that the angels are _supposed_ to help mankind but are too busy hiding out to actually do their jobs!" Sam gets up from the pew, taking a few steps towards Castiel while gesturing towards the stained glass along the upper walls, many panes of which depict angels watching over various Biblical characters, "We're supposed to look to angels as protectors! It's your _job _to protect and yet you can't really be bothered? Seems hypocritical that you could be sent away for being selfish when you _all_ are being selfish bastards by leaving us here with no help."

Castiel narrows his eyes at Sam's little rant, patiently waiting to be given the chance to speak, yet remains unmoved otherwise. He calmly thunders back, "You have quickly forgotten that we pulled your brother out of Hell. Was that not _protecting_?"

This is quickly getting out of hand again, and Dean doesn't like where it's going. Sam needs to stop pushing the angel _now_ or they might risk being killed off as pests or something. And since when is Sammy so damn argumentative? "Guys, calm down already, this is stupid." They ignore him, staring daggers at each other from a foot apart. Sam's height advantage doesn't seem like much with the weight of the look Castiel is managing.

"It was not our place to interfere with a deal _he_ willingly made for _you_." Castiel is practically seething now, even if it's just his eyes and a slight snarling of his nose that gives it away. Dean goes to grab Sam's shoulder and break this up before the angel smites him for being insolent or something, but the church door opening behind them all stills him.

The priest has come into the church, looking at the trio uncertainly. He can probably feel the uncomfortable atmosphere they have going on, but fortunately his presence breaks up the almost fight. Sam steps back from Castiel, eyes finding the floor.

"Can I help you gentlemen with anything?" the priest asks cautiously, walking down the side aisle towards the door to the church offices.

Dean recovers first, "Actually yes, my brother has some questions for you. We were just showing our...friend...here the church and were hoping to run into you," Dean gives his most convincing smile and pats Sam on the shoulder, giving him a small shove forward. Damn kid almost got them killed by an angel who apparently doesn't follow Heaven's rules, he can deal with the priest for a minute. Sam gives him a resentful glare, but turns with an attempt at a smile and starts towards the priest. They move off through the side door, Sam asking some bullshit question about the church's stance on baptism.

Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair, trying to settle himself down. Cas looks like he's back to as calm as ever, if a little bit uncomfortable. "Sorry about Sammy, he's not usually this hot headed."

Castiel just stares back at him, "I understand."

"So..." Dean tries, not sure where to go from here. Might as well pick up on the list of questions, "How come we found you? Kinda sloppy work for trying to be secretive."

The angel's expression seems to soften a bit, even if his stare stays unnerving. Dean can't bring himself to meet it for long, too much authority and it lays him bare. "I didn't particularly want to serve penance. I had hoped-" he stops, eyes finally leaving Dean and fixing on the pipes of the organ to his left, "If I had to serve out my time then I may as well entertain myself. I was an understudy to the organist in Heaven's Great Cathedral."

Not weird at all. No actually yea, that's very weird. But hey, this Cas dude is a weird little guy, so Dean doesn't hold it against him. Bit of a weak reason, but he'll take what they can get, and if Cas wants to sit around playing an overgrown piano for kicks while in angel exile then great. Just then Sam comes bursting back through the side door making a beeline for the main doors, his shirt pulled awkwardly to one side and anger lighting up his features.

"Dean! We're leaving. Now."

Without questioning it Dean turns to follow him, the tone in Sam's voice all he needs to know about the situation. He gets so far as halfway down the aisle when a thought comes to him and he slows. It's a big leap and will probably make Sammy angry, but he can deal with that later. "You know, if you get bored around here you can come with us. Hunting, I mean. Might be helpful to have a little luck on our side, and playing music by yourself can't be all that fun for long."

His offer is met with silence for a little longer than he'd like. Maybe that was stupid to say, they don't even really know the angel. But it just feels...weird, to leave him behind and alone. Dean turns to glance over his shoulder, hoping he hadn't fucked them all to hell, again. But if anything Castiel looks surprised, if only slightly.

His eyes have gone wide and his lips are parted, like he was about to speak. He gives Dean a searching look before the corner of his mouth lifts just enough to resemble a smile. It's more of an expression than Dean's got out of him so far, and he feels proud at the accomplishment for some reason.

"Yes Dean, I would like that."

"Alright it's settled. We'll give you a call, or I guess prayer, if we run into anything you can help on." Dean smiles back, already excited to see what an angel fighting will be like. He gives a wave and turns to go, "See ya 'round!"

**-**

Sam is surprisingly less angry than Dean thought he'd be that the angel was invited to hunt with them. That may be because he's still raging mad at the priest and the miscommunication they apparently had.

"I swear to you Dean, on everything that I hold dear, that if we _ever_ find another case at a church we _ignore it_!" Sam's making frustrated half movements, not willing to damage the Impala by punching even the seat, but needing to get out his aggression. "God that was so gross!"

"Dude you need to calm down, and don't you dare hurt my car," Dean pulled out onto the main highway out of town. Fortunately they'd packed everything before they left the motel, the stop to talk to Cas was the last thing they'd planned in the town. "You sure he didn't touch you? Cause I can turn this thing around and fuck up a-"

"Dean no, just drive. He didn't really. Fuckin tried to, but I can protect myself. Just want to get out of there and forget this whole damn thing." Sam grumbles, slouching down into his seat and trying but failing to look pout out. "Oh wait, we can't put it behind us, because you _invited the angel_."

Dean's eyes roll at Sam's theatrics and attitude. He drives them in silence for another 30 minutes, Sam pointedly sighing and looking out the window. After they pass the border into Connecticut he decides he's had enough of the little tantrum. "You know Bobby's gonna want to hear about Cas."

Sam gives a grunt to show he heard and agrees, but doesn't respond further.

"Should we call and tell him or go to his place?" Dean asks, but Sam still stares out the window with a slight glare. He'd never thought that he would actually miss post-college Sam, but this regression into petulant teenager behavior was getting old fast. "Bobby's it is then. Can you get me some directions at least?" Another heavy sigh but this time Sam moves and drags out the old map they keep under the seat.

It takes them two full days to get to Sioux Falls. Sam finally lets up the attitude somewhere around hour 10 of being in the car. They keep off talking about the angel in the room, but Dean figures there's nothing more to say on the matter. He's the one who makes decisions, and if Sam is going along with the one he made then who is he to complain about it. By the second day Sam's even more relaxed, singing along to a few songs he likes out of Dean's favorites. But as much as Sam's mood seems to lift, Dean's starts diving a bit.

Bobby is far less difficult to bring around to the idea than Dean expected. When they presented their case to him, he just shrugged. Apparently he's heard of crazier shit being real than angels, and is certainly not opposed to the idea that something non-evil got Dean out of Hell. However, he does share their concern on the how and why of it all. Demons never did anything without a price, they're sure there must be a catch somewhere if Heaven had done them a favor.

Sam gets restless sitting around at the house for a few days so with a promise to get researching on angel lore and anything related, Bobby sends them out again on a case in Nevada. The excitement's worn off, and he can't help his mind wandering to thoughts and feelings he does not want to have. He pushes each one down as it pops up, but its exhausting and thirsty work. Whiskey helps both those ailments. And thank God for small favors, the weird dreams haven't come back yet.

They take out a vengeful spirit or two within a week. Then a bust werewolf hunt that turns out to just be a bear. The hunt goes on, angelic revelation or not.

Dean hates flying, but at least right now he's not in an airplane. Oh no this is definitely worse, it's just he doesn't have time to freak out about it. He's been tossed backwards, flung through the air. His arms are out behind him, flailing and hoping that he can catch himself when he lands, but instead of the ground he smacks into something cold. He's landed in a pool and the shock of suddenly falling into water keeps him from staying dignified, letting out a little scream and sinking slightly before he can start treading the water. It's not terribly deep, he can just barely touch the tip of his boot to the bottom, but he can't stand in it.

"Sammy! Little help!" he yells out, trying to regain his senses from the impact with the water. Sam yells something back from a ways off, but with the water covering his ears intermittently he's not sure what it is he said. A flash of movement to his right catches his eye and he heads in the opposite direction. That is not where Sam's voice came from, can only be one of the damn shifters. Who expected there'd be _three_ of them.

He only has a few feet left to go when he's dragged under by hands on his shoulder and waist. Limbs start kicking and punching, but the water slows him down. It ends up being more like wild thrashing against whatever has a grip on him, but they're holding tight, and he's running out of air.

A foot connects with something solid finally, but it doesn't seem to do any good. The vise like hold on him increases, their legs winding around his own to try and keep him still and under. Sharp pain in his side and now he's yelling out the rest of his air supply, trying desperately to make it just the short distance to the surface. Chlorinated water fills his mouth and nose and he chokes on it.

God this is stupid. Dean Winchester, drowned in a frikken pool. He should have invited Cas along on this one, could have used the extra man to even the odds. Three against three, he likes those odds. His body fights against him, pulling in a breath even though there's no air to take in, the chemicals in the water burn his throat, burn his lungs more. Everything's turning black. He closes his eyes. There's a white light, and he knows to go towards it. No use staying behind and turning into something he hunted while alive.

Dean loses a few seconds, fading in and out of consciousness and trying to ignore the burning he can feel in his lungs. Then with a jolt he's breathing and looking up at the night sky. Still in the pool but floating on his back he takes in shuddering breaths, the chlorine smell and taste filling up his sluggish senses.

It makes him think of hot summer days when he and Sam were young and lucky enough to be left at a motel that had a pool. Sun beating down on their skin, the taste of salty sweat and popsicles. His favorite was always cherry. Sammy liked grape, and it never failed to make his lips purple for the entire day. They'd play in the water for hours, throwing coins to the opposite ends of the pool and racing to see who could get theirs first. And when Sam was really young his hair would smell of the chlorine while he curled on Dean's chest at night instead of a security blanket.

Dean can't help but smile at the memories as he floats and feels his heartbeat slowing down from the stress of nearly drowning. It'd be so easy to just stay right here, the empty pit in his chest feeling full again, enjoying the memories. But there is someone talking to him, and he has to break from the reverie.

"Dean." No he can ignore it for a few more seconds, this feeling is more important to cling to.

"_Dean_. You need to come back." A hand that has apparently been holding him up in the water gives him a shove, demanding his attention. He tilts his head back, assuming he'll see Sam even though the voice is far too rough to be his brother.

"Hey Cas, what're you doing here?" Somehow he's not surprised to see the angel, even though he knows he should be.

"You called for me Dean, and you were-" Castiel says, looking at Dean with a small amount of concern on his otherwise blank face, "I was able to remove the water from your lungs, but did not touch your mind. It may take a few minutes for the oxygen to clear your thoughts."

Speaking of, they were definitely starting to clear. What the hell is he doing floating in a pool with an angel for support? Dean quickly rights himself, finding that he'd been moved to a shallower part of the pool and can stand with the water at chest height. He faces off with Castiel, who is also in the water, trench coat billowing around him. Dean laughs at the sight, "Woulda thought you'd just walk on water, not get down in it."

Castiel gives him an unimpressed face and moves his gaze off to the side. Sam comes bursting through the bushes with wild eyes and looking like he just ran a marathon. He takes in the scene then pulls an almost comical face of confusion. "Dean? Cas?"

Alright, time to get out. "Well thanks man, I mean it. Now come on, let's get out and dry before we catch pneumonia." Within half of a second he's standing on the side of the pool with Sam, clothes and skin completely dry, beside an equally dry Castiel. If he were any less confused about this entire situation he would be startled, but honestly it's not the weirdest thing that's happened in the past few minutes. "Angel powers certainly come in handy, huh?"

He only gets an unreadable stare back. "I do not get sick Dean, but it seemed the quickest way to ensure you wouldn't become ill from the cold water."

Dean decides to let it slide for now, the other maters at hand more pressing, "Where's the other shifters Sam? I thought I saw the other two take after you." The third is laying face down in the pool, apparently dead.

"Yea I don't know, they just, fell over in a bunch of light."

"That was me. I made sure that they were taken care of promptly." Castiel looks between them both, seeming vaguely proud even if his expression remains neutral, "I believe it would have been difficult to handle with Dean dead and Sam outnumbered."

"Wait you were-" Sam's eyes have gone wide, scanning Dean.

"Obviously not! I'm walkin and talkin so it's no big deal!"

"He did lose consciousness for a few moments, but fortunately he called to me in time," Castiel says smoothly.

They stand staring at one another. Not entirely sure where to go from here. Sam looks uncomfortable about the entire thing, giving Dean worried looks and glancing at Castiel every time he makes a tiny movement.

"Alright, well, if this is wrapped up then we should go celebrate. Not everyday that you take down three shifters with an angel _and_ nearly drown!" Dean claps Sam and Cas both on the shoulders. Sam finally cracks a smile at the idea, shoulders shaking as he laughs a little. They start moving towards where they parked the Impala, but Castiel doesn't make a move to follow.

"Thank you for the invitation, but...perhaps another time," Castiel says, eyes fixed on the ground a few paces past Dean.

"Come on, you just saved our asses, you've earned some fun," Sam says, surprising Dean with his warmness towards the angel. Maybe it was the lifesaving rescue that has him opening up.

Castiel glances quickly up at Dean then looks back away. "Forgive me, I must return now." He's gone before Dean can say anything, or give him a proper thank you.

With a huff Dean turns to Sam, eyebrows raised. They share a look that says 'I don't know but whatever' and make their way to the car, beers and good times in their immediate future.

The local bar is nicely full and they manage to not only make a little money on some pool but also pick up two gorgeous girls for the night. The brunette that Dean leaves with turns out to be entirely unsatisfying. Nothing that the girl does is a problem or bad, he just feels odd and can't quite shake the feeling.

It's around 2 am and she's sleeping soundly next to him making small sounds when he realizes that the feeling is that emptiness he gets when he's most alone. It'd been gone for a while since the chlorine from the pool brought back memories, but now it's like a sinkhole appeared right under his ribs. He quietly gets up and pulls on his clothes, leaving her apartment and heading back to the motel. No point in staying the night if he's not in any way looking forward to morning sex.

Looks like Sam went to the other girls place, Dean's alone in the motel. He grabs a quick shower, more of a rinse off really, just to get the sweat of someone else off of him. He puzzles over the loneliness that's eating him up, wondering why she made him feel this way or whether it had nothing to do with the girl at all. But blessedly alone in his bed with a few swallows of whiskey sleep comes on quickly, quieting his mind down. His dreams are muddled visions of water, melting summer popsicles, and feathers.


	6. Chapter 6

_I have no excuses for how long this took to write. Also fun fact, I suck at writing dialogue. Ugh. The entire story is planned out...I knew what this chapter would have...and just couldn't discipline myself. So with my apologies, here is the next chapter! Let me know what you think!_

* * *

_Beep Beep Beep_

Ugh, is there a worse sound than the alarm clock far too early in the morning? Dean pushes snooze, resolving to get at least 5 more minutes. There are no other sounds in the room, so Sam must already be up and out. Dean drifts and burrows down a little more, wrapping up in heat, and chases after the half-memories of the dreams he was having.

There had been wings that fluttered in front of his eyes then took off into birds. He was running, just endlessly running, in a desert. Or maybe it had been a forest? He can't quite remember. Maybe if he just keeps his eyes closed and lets that pull of sleep drag him back down it'll come to him.

_Beep Beep Be-_

This time he doesn't hesitate to just turn the damn thing off. It's only...oh great, 8:45...but might as well get up and moving before Sam gets back. The lectures about his health and how sleeping in is bad for you have been getting annoying. With a minimum of grumbles Dean gets up and dressed for the day, even taking the time to shave ahead of his usual 'when needed' schedule. He's just finishing up his right jaw when the door to the room opens.

"Rise and shine De- oh, you're already up," Sam says, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Yea, well I don't do it for just anyone. You get breakfast?"

The thud of a bag on the side table is his answer. He does a few more swipes with the razor and towels off the rest of the shaving cream. A satisfied smirk spreads across his face as he assesses his work, he's going to Hell again one day anyways, what's a little vanity going to hurt?

"You tryin' to butter me up for something?" he asks, making his way over to sit across from Sam who has planted himself in a chair with the laptop. He doesn't even get a glance or acknowledgement. "You know, whatever stick you have had up your ass for the past few months needs to come out real soon. You're not much of a joy to be around, breakfast bringing or not."

"Just eat your food and let's get going. I think I found us a lead." Sam grumbles without looking up from the computer.

"Is this still about the angel? Because I thought we'd talked that out the last ten times you got your period." Dean pulls the wrapper off the bacon and egg sandwich Sam brought, stomach churning a little in anticipation before he chomps down.

"It's not...That conversation goes nowhere since you're far too happy to trust someone we _don't_ know. Who isn't even human for Christ's sake! Just...you know what, no, let's not." Sam glares at him before going back to typing. "I found someone who is apparently a survivor. Scars from fang marks but she never came forward for the police. Worth interviewing her."

Leave it to Sam to breeze past things he doesn't want to talk about. Sure he's more than happy to trample all over topics that _other__s_ want to avoid, but when it's himself, never. Dean's been fighting with him since they discovered Cas in his creepy hiding place. A full two months and the kid is still not okay with the entire situation. In the time since they've only seen Cas four times, each one because either they were in peril or needed some advise on whatever they happened to be hunting. Turns out the guy knows as much as Bobby about the supernatural, who knew? Plus, he's gone almost stalker and shows up right when they need him in tough situations. Dean would be bothered by it, but if he's honest seeing whatever baddy they're after go up in holy light is one of the coolest things he's ever seen.

Sam's complete mistrust in Cas is starting to drag on Dean's nerves, but not nearly as much as his frequent nights out. Twice a week he's either out with a girl he picked up at a bar or just leaves in the middle of the night for a jog to 'clear his thoughts'. Not that Dean has any room to talk, what with the amount of womanizing he's accomplished in his life, but it's weird for Sam. Dean whores while Sam snores, that's the way it's always been, and it should _stay_ that way.

Sandwich finished Dean gets up with his coffee to grab the car keys. "Whatever you say Sammy, let's go get us some vamps."

Whatever the Winchesters had been expecting from the vampire they were hunting, the last thing they anticipated was a full nest. Two against one, or even two against two, would have been a fairly matched fight. But two against four? And at night?

Dean comes to in a vague kind of consciousness, apparently having been shoved into the Impala's front seat. The engine roars from somewhere in the haze that keeps settling over his vision and mind. For a moment he's proud of his baby for how gorgeous she sounds, but then some pain chases away those thoughts as well as a wave of confusion.

He can hear Sam somewhere above where he's resting his head on vinyl. The material feels tacky against his cheek, like it sometimes gets when the sun heats it up all day. Sam's voice is panicky, and he's talking to someone who apparently isn't talking back, or on second listen it's more like arguing and begging. Maybe they've all finally gone crazy. He'll ask Cas about it next time the bastard shows up.

Dean blacks out.

It feels like he only blinked for a second, but when he comes to again he's laying on a motel bed. He can hear hurried whispers but they cut off as soon as he moves his head slightly. The bed dips and Sam's anxious face appears to his left and Castiel's slightly startled face to his right.

His mind is surprisingly clearer than it had been, even if the rest of his body is screaming at him in protest of every breath and heartbeat. A wound to his thigh is throbbing with a vengeance and those cracked ribs where he'd been thrown into a dresser are pressing uncomfortably close to a lung.

Unable to make any sound but a pitiful (_manly)_ whimper he tries to move his arm, but the effort sends off fresh sparks of pain from yet another injury he hadn't cataloged during the fight. Sam's face draws up, fear mixing in with the anxiety, and he shushes Dean. A hand from his right presses into his shoulder, silently demanding that he not move.

"Dean you need to stay still for this." Castiel sounds as unaffected as usual, even if his eyes show a small bit of worry. "This shouldn't take long to heal." A strange tingling sensation starts in his right hand, almost as though it had been asleep and is regaining feeling. The tingling works its way through his wrist and then jumps to his ribs and abdomen.

"You're doing great Dean, how does it feel? What can you remember?" Sam asks.

Now that he thinks about it, there's not much he can remember past- "Uh, I...what the hell is, ah!" _Snap_. "Goddamnit...actually that feels better." The pain in his side is gone, replaced with some of that residual tingling.

"My apologies, I am new to healing cracked bones." Castiel murmurs, looking slightly upset. The angel's eyes are staring at the burn mark that's been uncovered. Apparently they took his shirt off. Dean hates the scar, it's awkward to try and explain to people because, come on, how do you get a burned _handprint. _ Castiel moves his hand to just under the burn where a good sized gash is, the source of his earlier arm pain it seems. With a small touch the cut glows and knits together with more tingling.

"Yea that's...fun souvenir from Hell. At least it looks pretty badass, even if it's a bit small," he says. Just gotta play it cool, make it seem like he isn't embarassed. He puts on a proud smirk, "Probably from a girl with how dainty the fingers are, right?"

Cas looks him in the eye at that remark, glaring and looking vaguely disapproving. The hell is his problem? "You should be alright now, I have healed everything." In a small burst of sound he's gone, leaving them alone. Sam doesn't really seem to notice or care.

"Dean you ok? Listen, the nest is taken care of, so we're good, but we should head out soon. I don't think the police bought my story, the dispatch lady recognized my voice so they could be here any minute." Sam gets up and starts running about the room, throwing clothes and weapons into their duffle bags in a hurry. Dean grunts and gets up, earning a stern look from Sam. "You were out for over an hour Dean, don't push yourself."

"Nah, Cas said I'm good, we need to get out of here. Pass me my bag." As he goes to shove their toothbrushes into a little satchel he sends up a silent prayer, _Not sure why you ran off but thanks man, we seriously owe you one. _

They get the room packed up within five minutes, too many years of having to make fast get aways paying off once again. Even though he complains about it heavily, Dean allows Sam to drive. Near death experiences are reason enough for riding shotgun he supposes, but it's the principal of the thing. Baby needs delicate maneuvering, and with Sam's clumsy bigfoot reflexes...well, let's just say that the next state cannot come soon enough for Dean.

They stay silent until they get out of town to ensure that they don't do anything that would draw attention to themselves. Getting caught for speeding or 'reckless driving', as some half-assed cops have accused Dean, is not a good way to lay low.

Five seconds past the city limits sign they both start in.

"Ok Dean so what the hell was that?"

"Dude that was _awesome_!"

They glance in surprise at each other. Dean had assumed that Sam would be on the same page as him. I mean, getting magic saved by an angel? Kinda awesome. Even not knowing the full story yet, he's pretty sure it's going to be one of the once in a lifetime stories all the hunters share when they run into each other.

"Ok why isn't this the best thing that's ever happened to us? I mean, instant healing? It's been handy to have on tap, am I right?"

"No, Dean, not really. There were _four_ vamps. We were getting our asses handed to us! I prayed to Cas within the first few hits, cause there was _no_ way we were walking out of there alive or even human on our own! He didn't come until we got back to the motel saying that you'd called out to him. I could have lost you!"

That certainly changes the story and good feelings a bit. "What do you mean he wouldn't show when you asked? He said we could pray to him anytime."

"You think I don't know that? I don't really trust the guy, but Dean, he let us get hurt pretty bad before he came to help. Some 'protector' angels are." Sam's voice was coated with sarcasm and disdain. "You could have _died Dean_."

"Well...I'm not dead. And wait if I was unconscious then how the hell did I call for him?"

Sam gives a heavy sigh. "Look what's the last thing you remember?"

"We went down the hall in the upstairs and I went into the first room. Kinda spotty after that, just random impressions."

"Alright. Well short version: We were ambushed and since you went in first you took most of it. I think you downed two while I handled another, but they really cut you down good De. It was...there was just a lot of blood and you weren't getting back up. I had been calling out to Cas since they first jumped us, but he wasn't showing. I don't know how I got the last one down, but I took care of it and got you out of there and torched the place. I called the cops on the drive back, they recognized my voice. I spent the rest of the drive begging to Cas. He only showed up when we got to the motel and you were barely responding." Sam says in a rush. He's flushed with anger, hands gripping the steering wheel to keep focused on driving.

"Wow ok, not really a short version but thanks," Dean rests back against the seat, taking it in. He certainly does seem to remember some of the story, but it's all fuzzy, like memories get when he's drunk. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"What I want you to-?!" Sam whips his head around, eyes wide with shock and stupid long hair billowing.

"Eyes on the road! You think I'll let you drive her again if you get a scratch on my baby?"

Sam's eyes go back to the road, but he gives an annoyed huff. Dean's pretty sure he's bitchfacing in the dark. "Dean this is just another example of why we can't trust the guy. He says he'll be there but chokes when it really matters. Seriously, we need to just cut ties and go back to how we were _before_ you added a third wheel."

"Third wheel? Seriously Sam?" That's just a gross thought. He and Sam were not metaphorically a couple, they could add other people to the group if they wanted and it wasn't weird. Like Bobby, he could join anytime he wanted and Sam didn't complain. And that Ruby demon chick for a while. Kind of a bitch but was useful at times, he'll admit it. Cas is no different, just another transient group member. Who kinda apparently almost let him die.

"Look Sam, what if I talk to him? Since you two apparently don't get along."

Sam makes an annoyed grumbling sound, shaking his head a little. "I'd prefer we just ditch him but fine. Go talk it out since that's your best skill."

"Hey! Just cause I don't like or do chick flick moments does not mean I can't have a conversation. And I'm pretty sure this is won't involve feelings, dude can't even smile. I doubt he'll break down in tears."

Sam agrees with him and seems settled, but this new info is making Dean feel conflicted and horrified at himself. It's only been _two months_ since they met Castiel, and already they're relying on him to come bail them out of tough spots. Even if he has been helpful, they shouldn't be placing that much trust in his help. Tonight just proves it, they should have been more careful, but the sense of safety they've started having with an angel at their back made them reckless. In the past they would have seen the signs that this was a nest and not just one vampire. They've been getting sloppy.

But what if they should rely on him? They relied on Bobby all the time for everything, and that wasn't a weakness or problem. Ellen and Jo helped when they could too, and Ash was invaluable. Why shouldn't they add another person to the list of colleagues? So then why is Sam being such a little bitch about this?

Deans head swirls with questions and rationalizations. A sense of unease settles in his chest, though what part exactly is causing it he can't tell. He sighs and closes his eyes, letting his thoughts go where they will.

* * *

They make it to the next state within a few hours and pull off into the first motel they come across. It's 1 am but fortunately the front office is open. Sam gets the keys and heads to their room, leaving Dean in the car to talk to Cas, if the angel will show. Dean's not entirely sure that he will.

He picks a parking spot under a street light that's away from the other cars. Social rules dictate that you don't park right next to cars that are off by themselves, so it should keep randoms from bothering them. At least in theory it should, and that's all Dean has to go on.

He cuts off the engine, sitting in the silence for a moment or two. The streetlight provides enough orange light to see in the car, but not enough for the contours of the seats to be clear. Good, he doesn't want to be able to see as well as feel that intense gaze he'll be getting.

"Uh dear Castiel, I pray to your life saving ass. Hoping we can have a talk."

Just a slight whisper of air movement gives away the appearance of Cas in the passengers seat next to him. "Hello Dean."

They look at each other for a few seconds before Dean looks away into the dark out the windshield. Cas remains still, his eyes looking right at Dean.

With a small clearing of his throat Dean tries to start. "Look uh...thanks man, for earlier. Literally saved my life."

"Of course Dean. I am glad that I could be of assistance."

A few more seconds of awkward silence, although he suspects he's the only one feeling it. This kind of discomfort is exactly why Dean doesn't do chick flick moments. But there's no way he's pussying out of this with Sam waiting to hear what goes down. "So listen, Sam and I talked. And I gotta ask, why didn't you show up when Sam was calling for you? You fly in mid-prayer most of the time."

"I am not sure what you mean Dean. I came as soon as I could."

"Oh come on Cas, don't play dumb. You always come in right on time like Gandalf in Two Towers. Except tonight apparently."

"I do not understand that reference Dean. However, I was in time to save you if that is what you are referring to. Sam had the rest well in hand. I'm not seeing the problem."

Dean turns his body towards Cas whose eyes are still glued to him, not bothering to hide his annoyance, "See that's the thing. You _knew _Sam was calling for you but chose to ignore him. You never ignore me. So what the hell happened? And stop staring at me like that, it's creepy."

Castiel is silent for a moment, regarding Dean in a way that almost seems wary. He just wishes the angel would spit out whatever the problem is. "I did hear Sam. But I was not given permission to assist."

What a lie that is cause he certainly _did _assist. "But you did come and help Cas so-"

"Yes Dean, I did. I chose to, despite the direct orders given to me. My superiors were not pleased."

"They weren't-?" Dean rubs a hand over his face then decides to try a different tactic. "Ok seriously what the hell Cas? Either we can rely on you to be there, and I mean _we_, that includes Sam, or you should just leave us alone. Because friends don't do this crap to each other." _That_ certainly got through the angel's stony exterior. Just a small twitch of his hands as they rest on his legs, but it's enough of a tell that Dean knows he hit a nerve. "I mean, we barely know anything about you but I thought we're friends."

Castiel looks away from Dean, subjecting the trees at the end of the parking lot with his glare instead. "I like to believe that we are...friends...as well Dean. Heaven's rules are put in place to protect-"

"Yea and what do you need protecting from?" Dean says with laughter in his voice. The very idea of the badass angel needing protection from _anything_ is just ludicrous. The few times he's seen Cas in action is like watching a train take out a pile of sticks set on the railroad tracks. _Nothing_ gets out of there alive and there's certainly no scratches on Cas when he's finished either.

"It's not me who needs protecting Dean, it's you." The gaze is back, blue piercing right into him. "To be more specific, humanity is what needs to be protected."

"Then _where were you?_" Dean says, voice raising slightly. "I could have died and you weren't answering Sam. I get if your boss isn't a fan of us or whatever, but if you promise to be there you gotta stick to that promise."

"I _tried_ Dean." Cas's eyes squint up at him in displeasure. "I heard Sam the moment he prayed, but was detained by Raphael. He and Uriel have not been pleased with our relationship," Dean cringes a little at his wording, "Their followers have been petitioning for some time to bring me back to Heaven under watch for the duration of my penance. Fortunately, Balthazar and I were able to gain support and I came to you in time."

"Ok wait, who? And can you not call this a 'relationship', cause I know what you mean but it just sounds weird."

Cas's eyes stay displeased, but his shoulders droop in annoyance. "They are fellow angels. Raphael is my superior. That is all you need to know."

"So if I get this straight, Heaven doesn't want you hanging out with us but you convinced them it was alright?" Dean perks up a little at the thought. He'd been ready to hate the guy for abandoning them, but if he was fighting for them even against _Heaven_ then this is certainly a friend they cannot risk losing. And from the sound of it he doesn't want to lose their friendship either.

"Yes Dean, I was given permission to stay and assist wherever possible. I should be more free to come and go now."

"Well then...you gonna hang out a little more? Cause I gotta say, having an angel on our shoulders comes in handy. Plus, we should all know each other more if we'll be working together," Dean grins over at the angel, who gives a barely there smile in return and a small nod of agreement. The prospect of having Cas along for hunts more often gets him excited. All of the possibilities, all of the pies he can force the angel to try, and don't even get him started on movies. Sam's gonna have a field day with the Star Wars marathon-.

Crap. Sam.

"You'll have your work cut out with Sam, but I'm glad this'll work out man," Dean says, a cocky smile spreading across his face. No matter what he can always get Sam to calm down. Hell, if he could convince the kid to vacate motels for a few hours when he brought back a girl, then getting him to okay having an angel on their side should be easy.

"I'm looking forward to it Dean." Cas's eyes are almost shining in the darkness with how pleased he looks. No toothy grin like Dean, but in his own way he seems pleased.

And so the next morning finds Dean in a diner sitting next to the new winged member of the team with a fuming Sam across the table.


End file.
